4
P.d.RTISAN REVIEW
her that they were not playing a game, fishing for sport. "Hello, hello,"
she said, "Yes yes, yes that's my connection. Hello ... hello ..." She
strained every nerve to hear, the voice came muffled, from far, far away.
"Arnold ... Arnold ..." she cried; "Hello, yes this is Stella. Listen 1
want to know something. I want to find out about the strike ... yes ..
the strike." He mumbled something she couldn't hear, then repeated it,
"Yes, Oh yes this evening. I know but I want to know now. What,
what?" she shook the phone in exasperation, "I can't hear a word," she
shouted, "What? I know I'm shouting but I want to hear. What?
Yes ... Hello ... Hello . . . He's gone." A terril-ic rage swept through
her, why had he hung up like that? Why had he mumbled. She felt like
screaming, like tearing the handsome room apart. "Get whatever you want
for supper Henrietta, I don't care what it is, and I don't want to
take
the baby out this afternoon. I don't want to see anybody.
If
anybody
calls I'm not here. I'm not here at all."
When Henrietta left she stood in the room like an imbecile she stared
at the bowl of · Chinese waterlillics. She looked out the windows down
the handsome lawn, the lake, the tennis court, everything, all made by
Arnold. Oh, · Stella has made a good marriage, an excellent marriage,
what a break for a girl like that, a Yale man, plenty of money.
It
was
a
break to marry money . . . still these fishermen did not catch a thing.
Arnold had made the lake and had put fish in it but perhaps they were all
gone, yes they must be, she had not seen them draw in a single fish .
Yes she had everything she wanted, the heir to the Gregory millions
lay upstairs, about to have his dinner but she didn't want to see him today.
You went along for days, did things, had fun, then suddenly you collapsed.
You could not move an eyelash; everything was meaningless and you
thought way back six months before and you wondered what you had been
doing all that time and you could think of a dress you had gotten, some·
thing good to eat, some conversations like a dream and for the rest, gone,
gone without a trace.
She had to get out of the house, so she went down towards the old
wine cart which she loved. Every little man so gayly painted on it reminded
her of her own father. The great coloured
wheel~
were bright in the
sun. She climbed up and looked at the signs of the zodiac painted
in the center, and everywhere were the faces of men like her father's-–
ancient, long, forgotten workmen picking grapes, carving, hammering,
carrying faggots, and women nursing babies, cooking, bending, lifting.
A
gaity seemed all around the car, you could feel the surge and push of many
· men and an active abundant life of bustle still around the cart. Why had
Arnold's father brought it back from Sicily, had it meant something to
him? Or was it only a curious possession. When she was lonely for the
raucous, hand to mouth, terrible and yet abundant life of her parents she
