The Uncomplaining Corpses Read Online Free PDF Page A

an elbow on them and cupped her chin in her hand. Her eyes were a little wetter, enhancing the pity in their depths. The silence was becoming embarrassing. Shayne took up his teacup in both hands, took a deep sip. Over the rim of the cup he saw the woman’s hands relax and lie limp in her lap, and she continued:
    “I’ve tried not to blame Arnold during the years we’ve been married. I’ve stifled the bitterness I couldn’t help feeling. I won’t say he doesn’t love me—in his way. It’s difficult to tell about a man who doesn’t—who is impotent. I was young when I married him. Whatever happened to him was not his fault, for he was the father of two children when I married him. I wanted to mother them, but they’ve hated me since the day I came into their home.
    “Arnold loves me in so far as he’s capable. He’s too passive for hate, but from the first he has resented my having all the money I wanted of my own, and he has resented the terms of my father’s estate. My father’s will positively forbade the turning over of my estate or money to the man I married. I couldn’t have helped Arnold—even if I had wanted to.”
    Phyllis took advantage of a brief pause in the woman’s story and turned on the dim light of a lamp in a far corner of the room. She dragged her chair a little closer to Shayne’s when she came back. Shayne moved heavily, sat up with both hands gripping the chair arms. He started to speak, but sank back again when Leora Thrip shuddered and said:
    “Arnold Thrip is a good man.” There was an unmistakable emphasis of repugnance on the adjective. “I believe more good men have sent women’s souls to hell than all the criminals in existence.” Her eyes were raised defiantly, nickering from Shayne to Phyllis.
    “Why, it would be better if he beat you occasionally,” Phyllis burst out impulsively, and when her words fell upon heavy silence, she added hastily, “I mean if he were normal—and all.”
    The sun was sinking and darkness coming on. A humid breeze poured in from the east windows. Clouds were banked against the sky. Mrs. Thrip stared out the window for a moment, then resumed her story briskly:
    “It all began three years ago, when I was thirty-nine. Thirty-nine wasted years behind me and nothing before me.”
    During the brief pause in which Mrs. Thrip apparently carefully considered the continuity of her story, Shayne glanced aside at Phyllis. Her eyes were very bright. Shayne grinned and Mrs. Thrip said:
    “I met Carl Meldrum in Atlantic City at a house party. Carl’s first gesture was—well, he touched my hair as if he thought it beautiful. After that he—he flattered me—made love to me. I accepted his attentions gratefully and I felt innocent of any wrongdoing. What Carl wanted of me was something that Arnold had never wanted. Something he hadn’t—well, the power to possess. I couldn’t feel any guilt over the thought of giving Carl what Arnold neither wanted nor had the—” She caught her lip as if conscious of the repetition.
    Shayne straightened. Phyllis reached her hand out and rested it on his knobby knee. He put his big hand over hers and squeezed it.
    “Carl was fascinating in so many little ways. He made me feel young again. I was swept off my feet. There was so little time left for love.”
    For an instant her face was transformed into a miracle of youthfulness. She lowered her eyes shyly when a flush spread over her cheeks. Then her mouth drooped and she went on in an undertone which Phyllis and Shayne strained forward to hear:
    “I went into the affair with Carl deliberately. I didn’t believe I could hurt Arnold. I respected Arnold, but—” She checked herself again. Her voice was sharper when she went on:
    “But I soon discovered that Carl was evil. You—understand what I mean. What began as a glorious adventure ended in—in shame, before anything irrevocable had happened. I broke with Carl and did not see him until two months ago.