he wanted to abuse poor Letty to me.
I was wrong. Sallow and yellow-looking, he seemed in the throes of a mood of neurotic self-reproach.
âYou think Iâm a cad, Hazelton, donât you? Of course you do. Thatâs what youâre thinking, isnât it? That Iâm a stinking cad. And that Iâve always been one.â
âI donât know about always,â I responded dryly. âBut youâre certainly one now.â
âAnd you despise me.â
âI surely donât like you. Youâve been showered with every blessing a man could ask for. A loving wife, fine children, wealth, and even a bit of fame. And how have you thanked the gods who have so favored you? By spitting on their altars.â
âUnlike you, is that right? Donât you call yourself
lâami des femmes
?â
âBetter than being their enemy.â
âIs that what youâre implying I am?â
âHow else should I put it? Havenât you employed every resource of a twisted mind to ease their journey through life by removing every one of their cherished illusions?â
âTwisted mind?â His voice was suddenly grating. âSay what you will about my character, man, but leave my mind out of it.â
âI believe my term is exact.â
âSomebodyâs twisted, but is it me?â he sneered. âYou call yourself womenâs friend, but why? Because youâre incapable of being anything else. You havenât even the will to be the fag nature cut you out for. Youâre a friend of women because youâre an old woman yourself.â
âIâm glad you got that off your chest. Iâve always known it was there. We old bachelors have to live with that kind of aspersion. But now that youâve cleared the air, would you like to hear what
your
relationship with women has been?â
âVery much. Iâd like to hear it very much.â
âLet us go back then to your premarital days. I well recall what a cheerful young apollo you were. Oh, so bright and shining! But there was something just a bit offâa wee bit off. You smiled too much. The late Mr. Bernard himself once pointed that out. You wanted the whole world, but you were not convinced that you had all the means and talent needed to get it. You had a lot, to be sure, but the world was a big thing. So your smile would be your excuse if you failed. So long as you smiled people wouldnât think you took yourself too seriously. And if you didnât take yourself too seriously, could it be said that you had really failed? Could it even be said that you had really tried? Your face would have been saved, and a very handsome face it was.â
I paused, but he simply said, âGo on.â
âAt last, you looked about to see who could supply you with what you lacked. Who was more obvious than Mr. Bernard? He had everything you wanted, everything you needed, plus a rather plain daughter to whom he would leave it all and whom Apollo could easily captivate. It was ABC, the old American story, and it worked like the proverbial charm. Everything fell plumb into your lap. But there was a catch. Letty not only had the material things with which you had not been endowed; she had all the brains and the guts that you lacked. Where you were all show and glitter, she was the solid rock beneath. It was she who was the real voice on the magazine, the ranch, and the foundation. You thought you had acquired her. She had acquired you! You were the tinsel she had needed for her Yuletide tree!â
Amory gave vent to a snotty laugh. âNow I see why fags make such good novelists! Proust and James. You should have written fiction, Hazelton. Youâve wasted your silly life.â
But I could read the real anger in his narrowed eyes. I had struck home.
âYour story wouldnât make a novel, Amory,â I retorted. âNo one would believe it. Itâs interesting only because itâs