Read Online The Doctor Takes a Wife by Elizabeth Seifert - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Seifert
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’ m leaving Berilo.”
She peered up at him, not comprehending. “But, Philip ... ”
“I want to do some research work in St Louis ... And I ’ m going there next week.”
“But there ’ s no reason for you to do that, dear.”
“I feel I must, Mrs. Lowe.”
“Oh, you ’ re young—but you ’ ll find out that running away from sorrow is not possible.”
“That isn ’ t exactly—Of course, I hope that being busy will help ...” He jiggled from one foot to the other.
“I realize,” Mrs. Lowe ’ s thin, troubled voice went on, “that you must blame yourself for—for—what happened to Marynelle.”
Red crept into Phil ’ s cheeks. How could Marynelle ’ s mother have known that they ’ d quarreled?
“I didn ’ t want her to go skiing that week end,” she was explaining. “She was so busy—and her skin and her hair — but it was what you wanted to do. Of course, men don ’ t understand about girls and their needs. Anyway, she did what you wanted, for, in a w ay, that was what she wanted ... ”
Oh, brother ! If Marynelle had ever done one thing she didn ’ t want to do, it was news to me, and to Phil!
“So you ’ ve no reason to feel responsible, or to leave, Philip,” her mother concluded.
“Have you sold out your interest in the Clinic?” asked Eugene, his tone coldly practical.
“No,” said Phil, glad to turn to such matters. “I thought I ’ d first find out how good I was at research.”
“Sounds to me like running away, too,” Eugene decided. “Seems to me your job should have first claim—and I think you could please my mother a little. Under the circumstances.”
Phil blinked. The talk around town had been underground, and I hadn ’ t listened to much of it. But I knew there was some talk. Phil had been so wrapped up in himself, and his plans, that he ’ d not paid any attention to how his behavior might be judged.
“Mr. Lowe and I,” mourned Mrs. Lowe, “were planning to equip and endow an operating room at the hospital, Philip, in Marynelle ’ s memory. But if you won ’ t be there to use it ... ” She paused, and smiled slyly and confidently at him .
I could appreciate both sides of the situation. Mrs. Lowe was desperately hanging on to what she could of Marynelle ’ s life and interests. Phil was just as desperately endeavoring to untangle his limbs from these cerements.
“Mrs. Lowe,” he said quietly, and as courteously as one may kick an old lady in the teeth, “I wasn ’ t marrying your daughter because of her family ’ s money. I certainly shall not let it change my life now that she is—dead . ”
Well, of course, we left on that unfriendly note. The Lowes felt bewilderment and hurt at his defection; they showed resentment at his leaving—his “walking out,” they called it. I think the family, as a whole, had longed for, and hoped to keep, a ‘ professional man” in its gilded circle.
In the train, that afternoon, Phil was sorry that so much ugliness had been turned up. Surely he could have managed the thing more gracefully !
CHAPTER 6
Phil wrote to me at some length about his train journey and his arrival in St. Louis. The Midway, he said, was changed. They ’ d cleaned it up somehow but, unlike most things one remembers from childhood, it still seemed as big as it had done when the ten-year-old Philip Scoles had moved with his parents to Boston.
He had planned, he wrote, to stay at a hotel near the Group, and he went there first, but because of some sort of baseball meeting, he ’ d had to take what he could get, which was a room in a downtown hotel. It was pure chance that he went to that particular hotel, pure chance that he came downstairs at seven that evening, hunting the dining room, and turned by error into the bar.
Realizing his mistake—“I was hungry, not thirsty,” the letter said. “I started out of the place and then . .. ”
He would not claim that he ’ d failed to notice the girl who was perched
She peered up at him, not comprehending. “But, Philip ... ”
“I want to do some research work in St Louis ... And I ’ m going there next week.”
“But there ’ s no reason for you to do that, dear.”
“I feel I must, Mrs. Lowe.”
“Oh, you ’ re young—but you ’ ll find out that running away from sorrow is not possible.”
“That isn ’ t exactly—Of course, I hope that being busy will help ...” He jiggled from one foot to the other.
“I realize,” Mrs. Lowe ’ s thin, troubled voice went on, “that you must blame yourself for—for—what happened to Marynelle.”
Red crept into Phil ’ s cheeks. How could Marynelle ’ s mother have known that they ’ d quarreled?
“I didn ’ t want her to go skiing that week end,” she was explaining. “She was so busy—and her skin and her hair — but it was what you wanted to do. Of course, men don ’ t understand about girls and their needs. Anyway, she did what you wanted, for, in a w ay, that was what she wanted ... ”
Oh, brother ! If Marynelle had ever done one thing she didn ’ t want to do, it was news to me, and to Phil!
“So you ’ ve no reason to feel responsible, or to leave, Philip,” her mother concluded.
“Have you sold out your interest in the Clinic?” asked Eugene, his tone coldly practical.
“No,” said Phil, glad to turn to such matters. “I thought I ’ d first find out how good I was at research.”
“Sounds to me like running away, too,” Eugene decided. “Seems to me your job should have first claim—and I think you could please my mother a little. Under the circumstances.”
Phil blinked. The talk around town had been underground, and I hadn ’ t listened to much of it. But I knew there was some talk. Phil had been so wrapped up in himself, and his plans, that he ’ d not paid any attention to how his behavior might be judged.
“Mr. Lowe and I,” mourned Mrs. Lowe, “were planning to equip and endow an operating room at the hospital, Philip, in Marynelle ’ s memory. But if you won ’ t be there to use it ... ” She paused, and smiled slyly and confidently at him .
I could appreciate both sides of the situation. Mrs. Lowe was desperately hanging on to what she could of Marynelle ’ s life and interests. Phil was just as desperately endeavoring to untangle his limbs from these cerements.
“Mrs. Lowe,” he said quietly, and as courteously as one may kick an old lady in the teeth, “I wasn ’ t marrying your daughter because of her family ’ s money. I certainly shall not let it change my life now that she is—dead . ”
Well, of course, we left on that unfriendly note. The Lowes felt bewilderment and hurt at his defection; they showed resentment at his leaving—his “walking out,” they called it. I think the family, as a whole, had longed for, and hoped to keep, a ‘ professional man” in its gilded circle.
In the train, that afternoon, Phil was sorry that so much ugliness had been turned up. Surely he could have managed the thing more gracefully !
CHAPTER 6
Phil wrote to me at some length about his train journey and his arrival in St. Louis. The Midway, he said, was changed. They ’ d cleaned it up somehow but, unlike most things one remembers from childhood, it still seemed as big as it had done when the ten-year-old Philip Scoles had moved with his parents to Boston.
He had planned, he wrote, to stay at a hotel near the Group, and he went there first, but because of some sort of baseball meeting, he ’ d had to take what he could get, which was a room in a downtown hotel. It was pure chance that he went to that particular hotel, pure chance that he came downstairs at seven that evening, hunting the dining room, and turned by error into the bar.
Realizing his mistake—“I was hungry, not thirsty,” the letter said. “I started out of the place and then . .. ”
He would not claim that he ’ d failed to notice the girl who was perched
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