Because you're not. And I'm not saying that because your language is dissonant, or because your metaphors are either hackneyed or false, or because your few attempts to write simply are so flashy that I have a splitting headache. Those things can happen sometimes."

He sat down suddenly--as though he had been waiting for hours for a chance to sit down.

"But you're inventive," he informed his guest--without a perceptible note of accusation in his voice.

He looked at the carpet, concentrating and pushed back the hair at his temples with his finger tips "A poet doesn't invent his poetry--he finds it," he said, to no one in particular. "The place," he added slowly, "where Alph the sacred river ran--was found out not invented."

He looked out the window from where he sat. He seemed to look as far out of the room as he could. "I can't stand any kind of inventiveness," he said.

Nothing led away from this statement.

He sat still for a moment. Then, as abruptly as he had sat down, he stood up. He took Miss Croft's sheaf of poems out of his jacket pocket and rather anonymously placed them on the tea table, not directly in front of anyone.

He then removed his reading glasses, narrowing his eyes as people with extremely bad eyesight usually do when they undress their eyes. He put on his other pair of glasses, his street glasses. Then once more he bent over and kissed his bride good-by.

"Ray. Darling. Miss Croft is terribly young. Isn't it possible that---"

"Corinne, I'm late now," Ford said, and stood up straight. "Good-by," he said inclusively. He left the room, looking pressed for time.

CORINNE'S right-and-wrong reflexes had been uncomfortably overactive most of her life, and at four thirty in the afternoon her husband's walkout, his general behavior toward his guest, his unelaborate but obvious lie--all had, to her, a very high unacceptableness, whether taken singly or collectively. But around six in the evening, one of those connubial accidents happened to her which disable a wife--sometimes for months--from speaking up. She happened to open a closet door and one of Ford's suit jackets--one she had never seen--fell across her face. Besides having a certain natural olfactory value to her, the jacket had two great holes at the elbows. Either hole alone could have pledged her to loving silence. At any rate, when at seven Ford came home, she had been ready for at least an hour to be the last person in the world to ask him for an explanation.

Not once all evening did Ford himself allude to the afternoon in any way.

He was quiet at dinner but, as he was often reflectively quiet, his quietness at dinner wasn't obtrusive, didn't necessarily imply that he was carrying around some new X-quantity.

After dinner the Fowlers dropped by-unannounced and disconcertingly tight-to see the returned newlyweds. They stayed until after midnight, Wesley Fowler incessantly one-fingering the keyboard of the piano, and Ginnie Fowler obviously postponing a crying jag and smoking handfuls of cigarettes. By the time the Fowlers had pulled out, Corinne had half forgotten the afternoon, or had informally convinced herself that there is nothing real about a Sunday afternoon, anyway.

Monday noon, when Bunny Croft telephoned Corinne at the magazine, the call came almost as a surprise. But her second reaction was annoyance. Annoyance with herself for having asked Bunny Croft to "Look, why don't you call me at the magazine tomorrow, and let's have lunch together," and annoyance with Bunny Croft not only for taking advantage of yesterday's sincere invitation, but for still being in New York. Trying people's loyalty to their husbands, keeping people from running over to Saks' Fifth Avenue in their lunch hours.

"Do you know where the Colony is?" Corinne asked Bunny over the telephone --aware that there was something unkind about the question.

"No, I don't. I can find it though."

Corinne gave directions. But she suddenly didn't like the way her own voice was sounding, and broke in with, "Do you think your Aunt Cornelia would like to join us? I'd love to meet her."

"She would I know, but she's in Poughkeepsie. She's visiting somebody she used to go to Vassar with, that has to be fed through tubes or something."

"Oh---Well . . ."

"Mrs Ford, are you sure I'm not inconveniencing you? I mean I don't want ---"

"No, no! Not at all. One o'clock then?"

In the taxi, on the way to the Colony, Corinne planned to be perfectly pleasant at lunch, but at the same time to let it be known that once dessert was over her term of hospitality would naturally expire.

LUNCH, however, was different from what Corinne had vaguely expected or allowed for. Lunch was nice. Lunch was really quite nice, Corinne had to admit. Lunch was gay-lunch was really quite gay. On the first Martini Bunny Croft began describing, with mixed indifference and penetration, two of her young men callers in Harkins, Vermont, one of them a medical student, the other a dramatics student. Both young men sounded extremely young and serious and funny to Corinne and several times she laughed out loud. And as Bunny's casual, superior dormitory talk kept coming across the table, and as the waiter brought a third round of Martinis, Corinne herself began to feel distinctly collegiate. Characteristically, she looked around for something generous to say in repayment.

"Let me get you a date while you're here," she offered abruptly. "The magazine staff is full of young men Some of them quite nice and bright . .

. I'm getting tight."

Bunny looked on the verge of showing interest in Corinne's offer. But she shook her head. "I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. "I want to go to some lectures while I'm here. And--well, I write a little when I don't have to chase around looking at lamps or something with Aunt Cornelia. Thank you though." She looked down at her Martini glass, then up at Corinne. She removed her hands from the table. "I suppose if I had any sense," she said uncomfortably, "I'd quit writing altogether. I mean-well, golly. After what Mr. Ford said."

Corinne sat up straighter in her seat. "You mustn't feel that way," she ordered uneasily. "Ray has a nasty cold he caught on the drive back from Canada. He's not at all himself. It's all in his chest. He really feels horrible."

"Oh, I guess I won't really quit. I mean, not really." Bunny smiled, but averted her eyes self-consciously.

Corinne gave in to the nearest impulse.

"Come to the theater with us tonight. I have to see this play, for the magazine. I have a ticket for my husband and I'm sure I can get another.

The show's lovely in places."

She saw that Bunny, though attracted to the idea, was going to make the proper gesture under the circumstances.

"Do you think Mr. Ford would---" Bunny broke off awkwardly. "Since yesterday I've been feeling like--golly, I don't know. Like an old crone that goes around with a sack of poisoned apples."

Corinne laughed. "Now stop that. You just come along with us. We'll pick you up at the Waldorf?"

"Are you sure it's all right?" Bunny asked anxiously. "I mean I don't have to go."

"Of course you have to go." Corinne's voice lowered itself to fill up with love. "Really," she said. "You're very much mistaken. My husband is the kindest man in the world."

"I'd love to come," Bunny responded simply.

"Good. We'll pick you up at the Waldorf. Let's eat. I'm getting tight as a coot. I must say you seem to be able to hold ' your liquor like an old trooper."

"Could I meet you at the theater? I have to see somebody with my aunt at six."

"Certainly, if you like."

Here is a note Corinne sent to me:

Bobby, I didn't mean to hold out on you when I came to the Big Business. It was just that I didn't feel up to talking about it. I've written it down for you though. I've written it down in the form of a private detective's log a technique straight out of a Freshman English Comp I wrote at Wellesley when I thought it might be nice to become a lady detective later on. I got a C-plus for the comp along with an infuriating note from the instructor saying I was quite original but a little precious and that we don't really"tail" a scarlet tanager, do we Miss von Nordhoffen . . .

I'll take the same grade and a similar remark from you, and gladly, in exchange for the comfortable delusion that I couldn't possibly have known--in person, I mean--any of the ladies mentioned in the report. Anyway here it is. Sleep no more.

Love C.

ON MONDAY evening, May 10, 1937, Mr. and Mrs. Ford--who had been married three weeks to the day--met Miss Croft outside the Alvin Theater and the three went inside together to attend the performance of "Hiya, Broadway, Hiya." After the theater the three went to the bar of the Weylin Hotel, where, just after the midnight performance of some singers known as The Rancheros, Mr. Ford leaned across the table and in a very cordial manner invited Miss Croft to attend his lecture at the institute the following morning. Mrs. Ford impulsively reached forward and pressed her husband's hand. The three people remained at the Weylin bar until approximately one A.M., speaking together in a most friendly manner and watching the entertainment. Mr. and Mrs. Ford dropped Miss Croft off at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel at approximately one ten A.M. Emotionally, almost at the point of tears, Miss Croft thanked Mr. and Mrs. Ford for "the loveliest evening of my life."

Mrs. Ford held her husband's hand as the taxi continued on its way to their apartment house. Mr. Ford remarked, as they ascended in the elevator to their apartment, that he had a splitting headache. Once they were inside their apartment Mrs. Ford insisted that Mr. Ford take two aspirins one for being the "best boy in the world" and one to make him eligible to kiss his wife.

On Tuesday morning, May eleventh, Miss Croft attended Mr. Ford's eleveno'clock lecture, sitting in the rearmost seat in the lecture hall.

She then accompanied Mr. Ford to lunch at a Chinesetype restaurant located three blocks south of the university. Mr. Ford quietly mentioned this fact to Mrs. Ford at dinner. Mrs. Ford asked Mr. Ford which table he and Miss Croft had sat at. Mr. Ford said he didn't remember: near the door, he believed. Mrs. Ford asked Mr. Ford what he and Miss Croft had talked about at lunch. Mr. Ford replied quietly that he was sorry, but that he really hadn't brought along a dictagraph for lunch.

After dinner Mrs. Ford informed her husband that she was going to take the dog for a walk. She asked Mr. Ford if he would like to join her, but he declined, saying he had a great deal of work to look over.

When Mrs. Ford returned to the apartment two hours later--from a walk up Park Avenue almost as far as the Spanish Quarter--the lights were out both in Mr. Ford's study and in his bedroom.

Mrs. Ford sat alone in the living room until shortly after two A.M., at which time she heard Mr. Ford screaming in his bedroom. She then burst into Mr. Ford's bedroom, where she found Mr. Ford apparently asleep in his bed.

He continued to scream although Mrs. Ford shook him as violently as she was able. His pajamas and sheets were wringing wet with perspiration.

When Mr. Ford came to, he reached at once for his glasses on the night table. Even with his glasses on he seemed unable for several seconds to recognize his wife, although Mrs. Ford frantically continued to identify herself. At last, staring at her evenly, he spoke her name; but with great difficulty, like a man physically and emotionally exhausted.

Mrs. Ford, stammering badly, told Mr. Ford that she was going to get him a cup of hot milk. She then moved unsteadily out to the kitchen, poured some milk into a pot, searched rather wildly for the Magic Ignition Light, finally found it. She heated the milk and returned with a cup of it to her husband's room. Mr. Ford was now asleep again, with his hands clenched at his sides. Mrs. Ford set the cup of milk on the night table and climbed into bed beside Mr. Ford. She lay awake the rest of the night. Mr. Ford did not scream again in his sleep, but between the hours of four and five A.M., for nearly three quarters of an hour, he wept. Mrs. Ford maneuvered her whole body as close as possible to Mr. Ford's, but there seemed to be no way of relieving him of his sorrow or even of reaching it.

Wednesday morning, May twelfth, at breakfast, Mrs. Ford casually (so she thought) asked Mr. Ford what he had dreamed during the night. Mr. Ford looked up from his dry corn flakes and replied unelaborately that last night he had dreamed his first "unpleasant dream" in a long time. Mrs Ford asked him again what he had dreamed. Mr. Ford replied quietly that nightmares are nightmares and that he could get along without a Freudian analysis. Mrs. Ford said equally quietly (so she thought) that she didn't want to give Mr. Ford a Freudian analysis even were she qualified to do so.

She said she was merely Mr. Ford's wife and that she wanted to make Mr.

Ford happy. She began to cry Mr. Ford placed his face between his hands, but after a moment he stood up and left the room. Mrs. Ford rushed after him and found him standing in the outer hall, holding his brief case, but without his hat. He was waiting for the elevator. Mrs. Ford asked Mr. Ford whether he loved her. But at that instant the elevator doors opened, and Mr. Ford, entering the car without his hat, said he would see Mrs. Ford at dinner.

MRS. FORD dressed and went to her office. Her behavior at the magazine offices, that Wednesday afternoon, might be called "erratic." She was observed to slap the face of Mr. Robert Waner when the latter lightly addressed her at an editors' meeting, as "Mary Sunshine." After said act Mrs. Ford apologized to Mr. Waner, but did not accept his invitation to accompany him to Maxie's Bar for a drink.

At seven P.M. Mr. Ford telephoned his apartment and told Mrs. Ford that he would not be home to dine as he was obliged to attend a faculty meeting at the university.

Mr. Ford did not come home until eleven fifteen P.M., at which time Mrs.

Ford, who was out walking her wirehaired terrier, encountered him on the street. Mr. Ford objected when the dog attempted to greet him by jumping on his person. Mrs. Ford pointed out that Mr. Ford ought to be flattered that Malcolm (the dog) had learned to love him so much in such a short time. Mr.

Ford said he could get along without having Malcolm jump all over him with his filthy paws. They then went up in the elevator together. Mr. Ford remarked that he had a great deal of work to look over and went into his study. Mrs. Ford went into her own room and closed the door.

At breakfast Thursday morning, May thirteenth, Mrs. Ford remarked to her husband that she wished she hadn't made a theater date with the little Croft girl for that night. Mrs. Ford said she was tired and didn't care to see the play a second time, but that Miss Croft ought to see Bankhead if she had never seen her, Mr. Ford nodded. Then Mrs. Ford asked him if by chance he had seen Bunny Croft again. Mr. Ford asked, in reply, how in the world could he possibly have seen Miss Croft. Mrs. Ford said she didn't know, she said she just thought Miss Croft might have attended his lecture again. Mr. Ford finished his breakfast, kissed Mrs. Ford good-by and left.

Thursday evening Mrs. Ford waited outside the Morosco Theater until eighty fifty P.M., at which time she went to the box office, left a ticket in Miss Croft's name and entered the theater alone.

At the end of the first act of the play she went directly home, arriving there at approximately nine forty P.M. She learned at the door from Rita, the maid, that Mr. Ford had not yet come home from his Thursday-evening class and that his dinner was getting "ice-cold." She instructed Rita to clear the table.

Mrs. Ford stayed in a hot bath until she felt a little faint. Then she dressed herself for the street, leashed Malcolm and took him out for a walk.

Mrs. Ford and Malcolm walked five blocks north and one block west, and enbred a popular restaurant. Mrs. Ford left Malcolm in the checkroom, then she sat down at the bar and, in the course of an hour, drank three Scotch old-fashioneds. Then she and the dog returned to the apartment, arriving there at approximately eleven forty-five P.M. Mr. Ford still had not arrived home.

Mrs. Ford immediately left her apartment again--leaving Malcolm behind.

She went down in the elevator and the apartment house doorman got her a taxi. She ordered the driver to stop at Fortysecond Street and Broadway.

There she got out of the taxi and proceeded west on foot. She entered the De Luxe Theater, an all-night movie house, and stayed there throughout one complete performance, seeing two full-length films, four short subjects and a newsreel.

She then left the De Luxe Theater and went by taxi directly home, arriving there at three forty A.M. Mr. Ford still had not arrived home.

Mrs. Ford immediately went down in the elevator again with Malcolm.

At approximately four A.M., having twice walked completely around the block, Mrs. Ford encountered Mr. Ford under the canopy of their apartment house as he was getting out of a taxi. He was wearing a new hat. Mrs. Ford said hello to Mr. Ford and asked him where did he get the hat. Mr. Ford did not seem to hear the question.

As Mr. and Mrs. Ford ascended in the elevator together, Mrs. Ford's knees suddenly buckled. Mr. Ford tried to draw Mrs. Ford up to a normal standing position, but his attempt was strangely incompetent, and it was the elevator operator who lent Mrs. Ford real assistance.

Mr. Ford seemed to have great difficulty inserting his key into the lock of his apartment door. He suddenly turned and asked Mrs. Ford if she thought he was drunk. Somewhat inarticulately, Mrs. Ford replied that she did think Mr. Ford had been drinking. Mr. Ford asked her to speak more distinctly. Mrs. Ford said again that she thought Mr. Ford had been drinking. Mr. Ford, successfully unlocking his front door, stated in a loud voice that he had eaten an olive from "her" Martini. Mrs. Ford, trembling, asked from whose Martini. "From her Martini," Mr. Ford repeated.

As the two entered their apartment together, Mrs. Ford, still trembling, asked her husband whether he knew that Miss Croft had left her standing at the Morosco Theater. Mr. Ford's reply was unintelligible. He walked, swaying perceptibly, toward his bedroom.

At approximately five A.M. Mrs. Ford heard Mr. Ford get out of his bed and, apparently ill, go into his bathroom.

With the use of sedatives Mrs. Ford fell asleep, at approximately seven A.M.

She awoke at approximately eleven ten A.M., at which time she rang for her maid, who informed her that Mr. Ford had left the apartment more than an hour ago.

Mrs. Ford immediately dressed and without eating breakfast went by taxi to her office.

At approximately one ten P.M. Mr. Ford telephoned Mrs. Ford at her office to say that he was at Pennsylvania Station and that he was leaving New York with Miss Croft. He said that he was very sorry and then hung up.

Mrs. Ford carefully replaced her phone and then fainted, loosening one of her front teeth against a filing cabinet.

As she was alone in her office and no one had heard her fall she remained unconscious for several minutes.

She regained consciousness by herself. She then drank a quarter of a glass of brandy and went home.

At home she found Mr. Ford's bedroom and closets completely empty of his few personal effects. She then rushed into Mr. Ford's study--followed by Rita, the maid, who explained rather laconically that Mr. Ford himself had pushed the desk back against the wall. Mrs. Ford looked slowly around the freshly reconverted playroom, then again fainted.

ON May twenty-third--another Sunday --Rita, the maid, rapped imperiously on the door of Corinne's bedroom. Corinne told her to come in.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon. Corinne was lying on her bed, fully dressed. Her window blinds were drawn down. She knew, vaguely, that she was a fool not to let the sunshine into the room. but in nine days she had grown to hate the sight of it.

"I can't hear you," she said, without turning over to face Rita's unattractive voice.