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Updated: June 29, 2025
He had some notion of putting Charity off her guard or of atoning to her in part for his resumed alliance with Zada. He could not have told what his own motives were, for he was in a state of bewilderment between his duties to Mrs. Charity Tweedledum and Miss Zada Tweedledee. He could not tell which one had the greater claim on his favors.
Dyckman laughed: "Yes, but he wasn't there. He isn't there much nowadays they say." "Oh, do they?" Zada sneered. "Well, did They tell you he would be here?" "No, but I thought " "Better try his office in the morning." "Thanks. I can't wait. What club does he affect most now?" "Ask They," said Zada, ending the interview with a labored yawn.
He wanted to go over and crack a water-bottle over Dyckman's head. He did not do it, for the excellent reason that Zada L'Etoile was at his side. She had insisted on his taking her there "to lunch with the bunch," as she expressed it. She also saw Charity and Jim and Cheever's sudden flush of rage. She felt that the way was opening for her dreams to come true.
Now it was Peter who put his hand on her arm and patted it and said, "I didn't mean anything." Mean what? Kedzie wondered. But she had no chance to find out, for Peter rose from the table and, dodging around the dancing couples, made his escape. He reappeared in the very nook where Kedzie watched, and called up to Zada: "Did they see me?" Zada shook her head. Peter threw her a kiss.
Now that he was at her feet, Charity felt only pity for him, and even for Zada. She was sorrier for them than for herself. So she said: "All right, old man; let's divorce us. Will you or shall I?" "You'd better, of course; but you must not mention poor Zada." "Oh, of course not!"
She had used a word that fascinated the listening Central, who was lucky enough to transact a good deal of Zada's telephone business. Central could almost see Peter flush as he shook his head and answered: "Not necessarily. It's business." "You'd better make it your business not to go out with that woman, anywhere," Zada had threatened. "It's indecent." Peter winced.
She was entirely too well. He felt his wrath at Zada vanishing. But this also he transferred to Cheever's account. He spoke as quietly as he could, though his face revealed his excitement. "Sorry to trouble you, but I had hoped to find Mr. Cheever here." "Mr. Cheever?! Here?!" Zada exclaimed, with that mixture of the interrogation and exclamation points for which we have no symbol.
A wife is not ordinarily called "that woman." Peter sighed. It was a pretty pass when a man could not be allowed to go to the theater with his own wife. Yet he felt that Zada was right, in a way. He had forfeited the privilege of a domestic evening. He was afraid to brave Zada's fantastic rages. He could best protect Charity Coe by continuing to ignore her.
It is almost impossible to be very bad or very good very long at a time. So here was Zada already copying a virtuous domestic woe and wondering how she could fasten Cheever to her, win him truly for herself. She honestly felt that she could be of value to him, and make more of a man of him than his lawful wife ever could. Perhaps she was right.
Zada whispered: "Can't you guess?" "No, I can't." "Stupid!" Zada murmured. "You poor, stupid boy." Charity heard nothing for a long moment then a gasp. "Zada!" She greeted his alarm with a chuckle and a flurry of proud laughter. He bombarded her with questions: "Why didn't you tell me? How long? What will you do? How could you? you're no fool."
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