“Well, I’m sorry—”
“Sorry! Good god almighty.”
“Besides, if you’re not altogether sure of yourself, how can you expect me to be sure of you?”
“You were sure enough when we were engaged, weren’t you?”
“Yes, yes — I was. But don’t forget that we were both very young.”
“Of course! And now we’re grown up, aren’t we? And must put away these childish things — is that it? I suppose you think my career is finished? I suppose you think I ought to give it up entirely, and do nothing but teach — is that it? Come on, let’s hear you say it!”
“Will you please stop twisting my words? I merely meant that it was natural enough, when we were both young, that we should feel confident.”
“Ah. And natural enough now that we should be disillusioned. You are disillusioned, aren’t you?”
“No — but disappointed! It hasn’t seemed to me—”
“Yes, go on, let’s have it.”
“—that your work has matured much. It seems to me to be still young and unformed.”
“Oh, yes, I know — adolescent. Why not stick to your favorite word!”
“In a way, yes.”
“Gosh, what a comfort that is! Unformed and adolescent — which I suppose by implication applies to me too. After eight years of work and sweat and passion — by god, it’s too funny. It’s funny either way — funny as the devil if you’re right, funny as hell if you’re wrong. And if Karl sees power in it, well, then, Karl is adolescent too. We’re all adolescent, the whole lot of us — which is just what you’ve really been maintaining all along — as, of course, so conspicuously in the Jim Connor episode!”
“Candidly, yes!”
“Very well, then, Ee — we’ve come to a definite parting of the ways. That’s flat. From now on, my work will be private. I don’t want you to know a thing about it, or to inquire about it, or to look at it. It’s going to be none of your damned business. If you have no faith in it, as has become increasingly clear, then you can have no part in it. And all the more so because of the very fact that I do myself feel unsure about it. It’s bad enough to have to fight my own self-doubts, but I can’t have an additional enemy in my own house — and that’s what you’ve become. So from now on, as far as my career is concerned, I’m going my own way.”
“Is that fair? You asked for my opinion and I gave it—”
“The first law of life is self-preservation!”
“I see. So you’re going to separate yourself even more from me, as if you hadn’t already separated yourself quite enough, with this arrangement of living in the country and working in town. And that’s all right for your precious career, but what about mine?”
“Yours!”
“Yes, mine. That surprises you, doesn’t it? To think that I should expect a career? And that’s funny, too. Women don’t really exist, do they? Not for you, they don’t! It never occurs to you that nature intended us for something, and something beyond just being your slaves.”
“Slaves. Don’t be an ass!”
“Aren’t you being rather an ass yourself? I hate you when you talk like that.”
“You can hate all you like, but I won’t listen to such damned silly nonsense.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of it? That’s it, poor Timothy, you’re afraid of it, aren’t you? You can’t really face a woman, can you? You can’t face or understand her necessities, and so therefore you simply deny them. Absurdly simple for you, isn’t it? Much too simple. And it won’t work. I’ve got to live, too — whether with or without you — and there’s a minimum of love and happiness and well-being without which it’s impossible. I’m a woman, I was made for those things, I need them — oh, it’s no use your laughing — it may sound like platitudes, but it’s true. And I want more children while I’m young, I want and need babies, I want them, but I’m not allowed to have them because of your wonderful career, and the necessity of living economically for it, and without servants—”
“May I remind you that we agreed about that—”
“Oh, we agreed about it, all right.”
“Then I fail to see what you’re kicking about?”
“But I was a fool to agree, I was signing my own death warrant, I ought to have known better than to do it — I did it only because I loved you, and wanted to give you a chance — and anyway I thought it might somehow work, and that if you were happy you would be more generous—”
“More generous! What more could I possibly have given you!”
“Oh, I don’t mean only money, and servants, and the obvious things, like that — I mean the intangibles, too, I mean affection, I mean companionship — being talked to, for instance, you never talk to me any more—”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. It’s been true almost ever since Buzzer was born. You’ve increasingly left me alone by myself, it never even occurs to you to have a conversation with me, in the evening, unless other people are present, or to take me for a walk, as you do Buzzer.”
“Why, I never heard anything so ridiculous and untrue in my life! What on earth are you talking about — a conversation!”
“Oh, it’s true. You stop and think about it. From the time Buzzer was born, and the next six months, when I was so tied down, and couldn’t do things with you as much — that was the beginning, and it’s got steadily worse ever since. When do you ever talk to me? What do you ever discuss with me? Oh, no, it’s your old superiority complex, I suppose, your feeling that the female isn’t your intellectual equal—”
“What absolute nonsense — you simply don’t know what you’re saying! Good lord, what do you think marriage is? Do you think two people can go on indefinitely, day after day, year after year, holding set-piece conversations, polite little discussions, with each other — is that your idea? Heaven forbid — it would drive me mad. You can’t do things like that. Life isn’t like that. We may not have any beautiful highbrow Platonic dialogues at breakfast, or while we do the dishes, but to say that we don’t have any talk at all is simply an outrageous and thumping lie. We talk all the time — morning, noon, and night — it may be casual and fragmentary — of course, it is — but when two people are as intimate as we are that’s what talk naturally becomes. Good god, Enid, you really are becoming impossible. What’s the use of discussing anything with you if you’re going to misconceive and misconstrue every mortal thing like this?”
“You’re very glib — you can always defend yourself, can’t you? By turning your back on the facts. You know what I’m saying is true. And it’s deeper than that, it’s more than that — it isn’t only your not talking with me, it’s everything of that kind. It’s your never thinking of taking me anywhere, or planning anything with me, any more. I don’t mean anything important, I mean just little things. How many shared pleasures do we have any more? Precious few, and you know it. And it’s because you’ve turned away your affection, and companionship, partly because you’ve turned them on to Buzzer (and you needn’t stare at me like that, it’s true, and it’s perfectly natural! I felt it at the time, and I’ve felt it ever since) — you’ve more and more separated yourself, withdrawn yourself — but where is it going to lead us? We can’t go on like this, I can’t go on, it’s drying me up, it’s making me mean and hard and selfish—”