I moved over.
She said, “You look young to be a reporter.”
“I am.”
“I can’t see clearly. This hotel wins the prize for being the worst, the poorest excuse for — a bellboy broke my spectacles within fifteen minutes of the time I hit town. He plunked a suitcase right down on top of them, smashed them all to pieces.”
I said, “That’s too bad. The only pair you had?”
“Yes. I’ve had to send for more. They should be here today.”
“Where,” I asked, “are they coming from?”
Her eyes sparkled and glittered at me. “My oculist,” she said.
“San Francisco?”
“My oculist,” she said firmly, “is sending them by mail.”
I said, “So you notice what’s happened to the town?”
“Do I?”
“Naturally, it isn’t the sort of place you remembered. It must seem a lot smaller.”
She said, “It seems — like looking at a city through the wrong end of a telescope. What keeps people here?”
“The climate,” I said. “It used to be unhealthy for me, and I moved away for a while. Then I came back and I’ve never felt better.”
She seemed puzzled. “What was the matter with you?”
“Oh, a variety of things.”
“You look a little frail, but you seem healthy enough.”
“I am. I suppose you’re inclined to look at our little city through the eyes of a world traveller. When you left you were more a part of the surroundings. Now you’ve become a citizen of the world. Tell me, Mrs. Lintig, how does Oakview compare with London?”
She took that right in her stride. “It’s smaller,” she said, and then, after a moment: “Who told you I’d been in London?”
I gave her my best smile, which seemed wasted on her, probably due to the absence of her glasses. “Your manner,” I said. “You have developed a cosmopolitan manner. You don’t seem a part of Oakview any longer.”
“Good Lord, I should hope not! This place gives me the willies.”
I took out a notebook and scribbled a note.
“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just stating that you said the town was quaint, but had retained its individuality.”
She said, “You’re tactful, aren’t you?”
“A reporter has to be. Have you kept in touch with Dr. Lintig?”
“I wish I had. I understand he’s made a lot of money somewhere. After the raw deal he gave me, it wouldn’t hurt him any to do something for me now.”
“Then you’ve heard from him?”
“No.”
I put sympathy into my voice. “The whole affair must have been a terrific shock to you, Mrs. Lintig.”
“I’ll say it was. It ruined my entire life. I took it too seriously. I was more attached to him than I realized, and when I discovered his infidelity, I was furious. To think of him keeping that woman right under my nose.”
“The records show that he turned over all of his property to you.”
“Well, that was just a drop in the bucket. You can’t break a woman’s heart, ruin her life, and then toss a couple of deeds in her lap, and expect her to go right on as though nothing had happened.”
“Yes, I see your point. That case, I understand, has never been dismissed.”
“It’s dismissed now,” she said.
“It is?”
“Yes. What did you think I came to Oakview for?”
“To visit some of your old friends.”
“I haven’t any friends here. Those I did have have moved away. It seems as though everyone who mattered has moved out of town. What in the world happened to this place?”
“It had some bad luck,” I said. “The railroad changed its division point, and quite a few other things happened.”
She said, “Humph!”
“I take it then, since you’ve dismissed the action, you’re still married to Dr. Lintig.”
“Of course I am.”
“And you haven’t heard from him during the twenty-one-year period since you left?”
“I — say, I thought you weren’t going to talk about this case.”
“Not for publication,” I said. “I was just trying to get your background.”
“Well, you can leave my background out of it.”
“The story,” I said, “should be treated from a human interest angle — the real evils of divorce and all of that. You and Dr. Lintig were well established here and well thought of. You had a host of friend’s. Then, out of a clear sky, this thing happened to you. You found yourself faced with the necessity of beginning life all over.”
She said, “I’m glad you see it from my viewpoint.”
“I’m trying to. I’d like to get a little more of that viewpoint. It would make my story more interesting.”
“You’re tactful,” she said. “I’m not. You know how to write. I don’t.”
“Have I your permission to use my own judgement then?”
“Yes — no. Wait a minute — I guess not. I don’t think you’d better say anything about it. You can say that the action has been dismissed. That’s enough. I don’t want to have my feelings spread out in print to satisfy the curiosity of a lot of morbid scandal-mongers.”
“You didn’t do anything. It was Dr. Lintig.”
“I guess I was a little fool. If I’d known more about life, I’d have kept my eyes closed to what was going on and continued to live on with him as his wife.”
“You mean remained right on here in Oakview?”
She all but shuddered. “Good heavens, no! This town is dead from its — it’s quaint. It’s retained its individuality. It’s all right for the people who like it.”
“Perhaps your travels have brought about a change in you. Perhaps you’ve changed while Oakview is standing still.”
“Perhaps.”
“Where are you living now, Mrs. Lintig?”
“Here in the hotel.”
“I mean what’s your permanent address?”
“Do you want to publish that?”
“Why not?”
She laughed and said, “And I’d have half of the crackpots in town writing to me. No. I’m finished with Oakview, and Oakview can be finished with me. This was a bitter chapter in my life. I want to close it and forget it.”
“Then I should think you’d want the divorce to go through so you could have your freedom.”
“I don’t want my freedom.”
“May I ask why?”
“It’s none of your business. My God, can’t I come to town and handle my own affairs without having the newspapers ask me a lot of personal questions?”
“People are interested in you. A lot of people have been speculating on what happened to you.”
“Who?”
“Oh, lots of people.”
“Please be more specific.”
“Just our general readers,” I said.
“I don’t believe it. They wouldn’t remember a person who had moved away ages ago.”
“Have you been discussing the divorce with anyone lately?”
“What if I have?”
“I just wondered.”
“You want to know too much, young man,” she said. “You promised me that you wouldn’t try to pry into my private affairs.”
I said, “Just what you’d care to give us, Mrs. Lintig.”
“Well, I don’t care to give you anything.”
“One would think that, in view of the circumstances, a woman as — you’ll pardon me, Mrs. Lintig — as attractive as you would have met someone for whom you cared and married again.”
“Who said I married again?” she demanded, her eyes hard, black, and glittering.
“It was just speculation.”
“Well, the people in Oakview had better mind their own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
“And, of course, one naturally wonders what happened to Dr. Lintig and to that nurse.”
“I don’t care a snap of my fingers for what happened to him. I have my own life to live.”