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relentless scrutiny。 Straighteningpreparatory to plunging his spoon
thereinhe flapped his right elbow。 It wasn't exactly a flap； it was a pass
between a hitch and a flap； and presented external evidence of a mental
state。 Orville Platt always gave that little preliminary jerk when he was
contemplating a serious step； or when he was moved； or argumentative。
It was a trick as innocent as it was maddening。
Terry Platt had learned to look for that flapthey had been married
four yearsto look for it； and to hate it with a morbid； unreasoning hate。
That flap of the elbow was tearing Terry Platt's nerves into raw； bleeding
fragments。
Her fingers were clenched tightly under the table； now。 She was
breathing unevenly。 〃If he does that again；〃 she told herself； 〃if he flaps
again when he opens the second egg； I'll scream。 I'll scream。 I'll
scream！ I'll sc〃
He had scooped the first egg into his cup。 Now he picked up the
second； chipped it； concentrated； straightened； thenup went the elbow；
and down； with the accustomed little flap。
The tortured nerves snapped。 Through the early…morning quiet of
Wetona； Wisconsin； hurtled the shrill； piercing shriek of Terry Platt's
hysteria。
〃Terry！ For God's sake！ What's the matter！〃
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Orville Platt dropped the second egg； and his spoon。 The egg yolk
trickled down his plate。 The spoon made a clatter and flung a gay spot of
yellow on the cloth。 He started toward her。
Terry； wild…eyed； pointed a shaking finger at him。 She was laughing；
now； uncontrollably。 〃Your elbow！ Your elbow！〃
〃Elbow？〃 He looked down at it； bewildered； then up； fright in his
face。 〃What's the matter with it？〃
She mopped her eyes。 Sobs shook her。 〃You f…f…flapped it。〃
〃F…f…f〃 The bewilderment in Orville Platt's face gave way to
anger。 〃Do you mean to tell me that you screeched like that because my
because I moved my elbow？〃
〃Yes。〃
His anger deepened and reddened to fury。 He choked。 He had
started from his chair with his napkin in his hand。 He still clutched it。
Now he crumpled it into a wad and hurled it to the center of the table；
where it struck a sugar bowl； dropped back； and uncrumpled slowly；
reprovingly。 〃Youyou〃 Then bewilderment closed down again like a
fog over his countenance。 〃But why？ I can't see〃
〃Because itbecause I can't stand it any longer。 Flapping。 This is
what you do。 Like this。〃
And she did it。 Did it with insulting fidelity； being a clever mimic。
〃Well； all I can say is you're crazy； yelling like that； for nothing。〃
〃It isn't nothing。〃
〃Isn't； huh？ If that isn't nothing； what is？〃 They were growing
incoherent。 〃What d'you mean； screeching like a maniac？
Like a wild woman？ The neighbors'll think I've killed you。 What
d'you mean； anyway！〃
〃I mean I'm tired of watching it； that's what。 Sick and tired。〃
〃Y'are； huh？ Well； young lady； just let me tell YOU something〃
He told her。 There followed one of those incredible quarrels； as
sickening as they are human； which can take place only between two
people who love each other； who love each other so well that each knows
with cruel certainty the surest way to wound the other； and who stab； and
tear； and claw at these vulnerable spots in exact proportion to their love。
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Ugly words。 Bitter words。 Words that neither knew they knew flew
between them like sparks between steel striking steel。
From him： 〃Trouble with you is you haven't got enough to do。
That's the trouble with half you women。 Just lay around the house；
rotting。 I'm a fool； slaving on the road to keep a good…for…nothing〃
〃I suppose you call sitting around hotel lobbies slaving！ I suppose
the house runs itself！ How about my evenings？ Sitting here alone；
night after night； when you're on the road。〃
Finally； 〃Well； if you don't like it；〃 he snarled； and lifted his chair by
the back and slammed it down； savagely； 〃if you don't like it； why don't
you get out； hm？ Why don't you get out？〃
And from her； her eyes narrowed to two slits； her cheeks scarlet：
〃Why； thanks。 I guess I will。〃
Ten minutes later he had flung out of the house to catch the 8：19 for
Manitowoc。 He marched down the street； his shoulders swinging
rhythmically to the weight of the burden he carriedhis black leather
handbag and the shiny tan sample case； battle…scarred； both； from many
encounters with ruthless porters and busmen and bellboys。 For four
years； as he left for his semi…monthly trip； he and Terry had observed a
certain little ceremony （as had the neighbors）。 She would stand in the
doorway； watching him down the street； the heavier sample case banging
occasionally at his shin。 The depot was only three blocks away。 Terry
watched him with fond but unillusioned eyes； which proves that she really
loved him。 He was a dapper； well…dressed fat man； with a weakness for
pronounced patterns in suitings； and addicted to derbies。 One week on
the road； one week at home。 That was his routine。 The wholesale
grocery trade liked Platt； and he had for his customers the fondness that a
traveling salesman has who is successful in his territory。 Before his
marriage to Terry Sheehan his little red address book had been
overwhelming proof against the theory that nobody loves a fat man。
Terry； standing in the doorway； always knew that when he reached the
corner just where Schroeder's house threatened to hide him from view； he
would stop； drop the sample case； wave his hand just once； pick up the
sample case and go on； proceeding backward for a step or two until
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Schroeder's house made good its threat。 It was a comic scene in the eyes
of the onlooker； perhaps because a chubby Romeo offends the sense of
fitness。 The neighbors； lurking behind their parlor curtains； had laughed at
first。 But after a while they learned to look for that little scene； and to take
it unto themselves； as if it were a personal thing。 Fifteen…year wives
whose husbands had long since abandoned flowery farewells used to get a
vicarious thrill out of it； and to eye Terry with a sort of envy。
This morning Orville Platt did not even falter when he reached
Schroeder's corner。 He marched straight on； looking steadily ahead； the
heavy bags swinging from either hand。 Even if he had stoppedthough
she knew he wouldn'tTerry Platt would not have seen him。 She
remained seated at the disordered breakfast table； a dreadfully still figure；
and sinister； a figure of stone and fire； of ice and flame。 Over and over in
her mind she was milling the things she might have said to him； and had
not。 She brewed a hundred vitriolic cruelties that she might have flung in
his face。 She would concoct one biting brutality； and dismiss it for a
second； and abandon that for a third。 She was too angry to crya
dangerous state in a woman。 She was what is known as cold mad； so that
her mind was working clearly and with amazing swiftness； and yet as
though it were a thing detached； a thing that was no part of her。
She sat thus for the better part of an hour； motionless except for one
forefinger that was； quite unconsciously； tapping out a popular and cheap
little air that she had been strumming at the piano the evening before；
having b