Nailles was not afraid of Nellie but he bothered her no more. Frustrated, angry and indignant he went into the guest room and slept there.
If you met Nailles on a train or a plane or a bus or a boat and asked him what he did he would describe himself as a chemist. If you questioned him further he would say that he worked for the Saffron Chemical Corporation but that was all you would get out of him. He had majored in chemistry at college but he had not taken a graduate degree and his chemistry was dated. He worked for Monsanto in Delaware for five years and then he worked for three years analyzing chemical fertilizers for the Food and Agricultural Offices of the United Nations in Rome. Saffron hired him when he returned to the United States. Saffron operated a small laboratory in Westfield but it was basically a manufacturing firm that produced a patent floor mop called Moppet, a line of furniture polish called Tudor, and Spang, a mouthwash. Nailles was principally occupied with the merchandising of Spang and he was definitely restive about this. It seemed to reflect on his dignity. He had argued with himself frequently on this score. Would he be more dignified if he had manufactured mattresses, depilatories, stained-glass windows or toilet seats? No. In the TV commercials for Spang, boxers in the ring objected to one another's bad breath. Bad breath came between young lovers, friends, husbands and wives. In a sense this was all true, he told himself. Bad breath was a human infirmity like obeseness and melancholy and it was his simple task to cure it. Sexual compatibility was the keystone to any robust marriage and bad breath could lead to divorce, alimony and custody suits. Bad breath could sap a man's self-esteem, posture and appearance. Suspecting himself to be a sufferer, the victim would mumble into his shirt, hoping to divert the fumes downward. Bad breath recognized no class. Nailles had read in the paper that bad breath came between Lord Russell and his love. Bad breath could come between the priest and his flock, Nailles had observed when Father Ransome breathed on him as he reached for the chalice. In Nailles's mythology the nymphs complained among themselves about the bad breath of Priapus. Bad breath drove children away from home. The wise statesman in his councils was not heeded because his breath was noxious. Bad breath was a cause of war.
Saffron was a paternal organization. A kindly old man named Marshman was president and majority stock owner and in the last year his son Michael had graduated from college and joined the firm. He was energetic, full of ideas and detestable. He had the products appraised by a firm of motivational psychologists. They concluded that the formula for Spang was too bland. Cleanliness was associated- so they claimed-with bitterness, and the sales of Spang would increase if its taste was more unpleasant. The laboratory had been asked to work up a new formula and on the day after the Ridleys' dinner Nailles drove to Westfield to test mouthwash. It was a pointless day. He rinsed and spat, rinsed and spat. His taste was not especially keen and when he chose a formula it was guesswork. He started back to Bullet Park at about four. His mouth was stinging and he stopped at a bar on the road for a drink.
There was nothing to recommend the place from the outside. It was shabby but when he stepped into the dark room he found himself in one of those quiet bars where the customers sit in a palpable atmosphere of sanctuary. The bartender wore a rented yellow jacket. Four men at the bar were drinking whiskey. One of them was feeding potato chips to a mongrel dog. "I never get any further than Southwark," one of them said. "Southwark is the only place I ever get to any more." There seemed to be some metric regulation to the pace of the talk. It was emotional, intimate, evocative and as random as poetry. They had come from other places and would go to other places but sitting against the light at four in the afternoon they seemed as permanent as the beer pulls. "Ill buy a free drink for anyone that can tell me what kind of dog my dog is," said the man with the potato chips. There were no takers and so he answered the question himself. "My dog is half beagle," he said, "and half Irish setter."
Nailles ordered a martini, which marked him as a traveler and a stranger.
"I had this girl who used to say hello," one of the men said. "You ever know a girl like that?" There was no answer and he went on. "She used to say hello all the time. I used to go over there on Thursday nights after supper. Her husband bowled on Thursdays. She was usually in a bathrobe or something like that and she'd give me a big kiss and start saying hello. So then when I was getting undressed she'd kiss my ears and everything and keep saying hello, hello, hello. She'd keep saying hello all through the preliminaries and then when we came to the main feature she'd keep on saying hello only louder and louder and finally she'd sort of yell hello, hello. Then afterwards she'd light me a cigarette and get me a drink of whiskey-she always did that-and she'd keep kissing me and saying hello. Then when I got dressed and kissed her good night she'd keep on saying hello. I suppose she must have said something else but I honestly can't remember her saying anything but hello."
"The things my wife used to say," the fourth man said, "I wouldn't want to repeat. She was very gentle-spoken and everything but when she got into bed she'd say anything. Worse than a whore. I used to wonder who taught her to speak like that. I mean it wasn't me. It used to make me jealous and I have a very jealous nature. She was a beautiful woman and she loved to put it out and if she wanted to two-time me she had every chance. I mean I was away from seven in the morning until half past six and when she wouldn't put it out I figured she must be getting it somewheres else. I suffered awfully from jealousy. I wouldn't hire a detective or follow her around or anything like that but I just wanted to be sure, if you know what I mean. So then I hit on this idea. The Thing. Has she got the Thing on. If she's got the Thing on she's planning to put it out. She kept the Thing in the medicine cabinet and it was very easy for me to find out where it was. So, one night I came home and washed my face and I chanced to look in the medicine cabinet and I saw that the Thing wasn't there. I thought I had her. So I went downstairs, very angry, and I asked her what kind of a day she'd had and she said she went shopping. She didn't buy anything but she spent the afternoon looking at dresses. So then I said it struck me she was looking at something else. She went on cooking and I asked her where the Thing was, why did she have to wear the Thing in order to go shopping. So then I hollered at her and called her names and she cried and cried and said she had the Thing on because we did it in the morning and you know she had me there because I couldn't remember whether or not we did it in the morning. So then I apologized and she stopped crying and we had dinner but she wouldn't let me touch her and I was still suspicious. Jealous, I mean. So about a week later she was going to visit her sister in Detroit. Her sister is very immoral. I drove her out to the airport and kissed her goodbye and when I got home that night I opened the medicine cabinet and there was the Thing. So I met her at the airport when she came home and everything was fine but that night while I was brushing my teeth I opened the medicine cabinet and I saw two Things. I figured she'd left one Thing at home to deceive me and bought another Thing in Detroit. So then I asked her why she had to buy a Thing in Detroit and she began to cry and said she'd bought a new Thing that afternoon because there was a hole in the old Thing. So then I asked her if she'd bought it at the drug store and she said yes and I said I'm going to find out the truth and I called the drug store and asked them if she'd bought a Thing that afternoon. They told me they didn't keep a record of those purchases and that the afternoon clerk had gone home so I asked for his telephone number, the number of the clerk, and they gave it to me and I called him and he said he couldn't remember, it was a busy afternoon and he couldn't remember every purchase that was made. She was still crying and naturally I felt a little cheap but I still wasn't sure about what was going on. Well, about a week later she was sleeping late and I was getting dressed to go to work and a button pulled off my jacket and I went to this box where she keeps needles and threads and I opened it up and there was another Thing. So I took it into the bedroom and I showed it to her and I asked her how the hell many Things did she have to have and she pulled the blankets up over her face and didn't say anything and I went to work with a button off my jacket. About a week after that they put the pill on the market and she threw away all her Things and started taking the pill and so, of course, I never knew. We got divorced six, seven months later."