Life — April 26, 1917 — page 72: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“ETE - Maintaining a Reputation “VOU are on time,” I said to Petru- cia reproach fully. “But I really couldn’t help it, dea. 1 am sorry, of course, but you ought not to blame me. I—oh! Now I see. I didn’t understand. Really was 1? Of course—— You know I always pride myself on keeping my ‘ngagements.” Certainly,” I replied, scarcely able to resist the temptation, “and that, my dear girl, is the danger. One begins by priding oneself on a certain thing and afterwards develops a reputation which one has to live up to. Don’t be ‘on time again, Petrucia.” We were sitting now at the restau- rant table, snatching a bite before the matinée, for I. had recently de- veloped the fatal American habit of the tired business man of taking my wife to Saturday matinées. Yet there was a method in my ap- parent weakness, for it enabled me to avoid going to church on Sunday. Not that there was any visible vulgar bargain—only Petrucia could scarcely urge my going to church against my will when only yesterday I had devoted myself to her, Thus the insidious Pu- ritan spirit of compromise is, we see, not wholly confined to politics—it per- meates our domestic life. “You know I do the best I can, and with all [ have to do,” protested Petru- cia, in the intervals of her club sand- wich, as she shouted over the ragtime. “Yes,” I shouted back, “ but don’t get too reliable. It isn’t expected of you. Thave to be reliable, of course. Other- wise: “Well?” she questioned. “Otherwise things couldn’t go on. What would you do without me? Don't I always think of all the details? And don’t you have a comfortable feel- when——”" tucia knew it was atrociously conceited of me to that, and she knew I was fishing, but the sense of coming pleasure was upon her, and she responded : “You are a dear. And. of course, you always think of everything. If I had married a careless man how could we have managed?” “Never mind,” I Said, with a touch of asperi we mustn’t think of that. We are out for the best time in the world.” : I paid the waiter, and we threade: our way out and up the street toward the theatre. As we came within a square of it, involuntarily I put my hand in my pocket to get the tickets—and then——? They were not there! laid them, It requires great presence of mind to keep cool at a moment like that. I fell a trifle behind Petrucia in the crowd, to search my pockets and make sure that there was no mistake. Horrors! There wasn't. mislaid them. I couldn’: tell Petrucia, of course. To have spoiled her day, to give her the slightest uneasiness—it was impos- sible. Besides 1 had a reputation to maintain. My resolve came swiftly. I would do a bold stroke. Certainly it wasn’t a case of caring about the spending of money in such an emer- gency. I would take the chance at the box-office of getting two seats at the last moment—they might be re- turned. “Wait a moment,” I said to Petru- i I promised Jack Hornby I would get him seats for next week.” I slid away from her—the line was fortu- nately short. What a relief! Yes. Two in the twelfth row. I wore a nonchalant smile as I joined Petrucia. In a moment we were watching the curtain rise, clasping each other's hands. For the habit of doing that had clung to us, to be exercised in moments of mutual joy and understanding. I had mis- Thad actually. It was only some hours later as we stood together in our own home that I experienced the reaction, and that a deep remorse came over me. I was repentant of my conceit. Besides, to conceal anything from Petrucia per- manently—that would never do. Then it was rather a joke also, and Pe- sense of humor, well, that ought to be kept alive. “My dear,” T said, quietly looking at her, “I must out with it. I couldn’t tell you at the time because——" “Oh, dear!” “Don't be alarmed. It’s all over now. And the expense! Well, we must forget that. But do you know I lost those matinée tickets or mislaid them. I didn’t find it out until the last. minute and then” bought two others—so we saved the day, didn’t we?” Petrucia, for a brief instant, looked at me as if her senses were paralyzed. Then she actually screamed, as she sprang to her dressing table, opened her reticule and snatched out an en- velope. “Here they were all the time!” she cried; “ you left them on the mantel. I saw them just before I left, and put them in my pocketbook.” “Then why on earth,” I gasped, “didn’t you give them to me at the restaurant?” Petrucia’s delighted face still bore the appearance of being slightly petrified. Then it relaxed and she smiled. And, they say women have no sense of humor! “My dear,” she expostulated, “how could you possibly expect me to re- member about them? Didn't you say yourself that it was never necessary for me to think of anything when you are along?” 7.4 A PACIFIST comicbooks.com