“Fine, fine, but think it over. I like women who have their heads screwed on.”
After saying good-bye to everyone, and agreeing to visit Herminia Treaumont at the newspaper office the following Wednesday, Miss Prim left the tearoom. Turning up her coat collar and putting on her gloves, she prepared for the walk back to the house.
Outside, the streets were slowly disappearing under a blanket of white.
She had gone barely half a mile and was about to enter the woods when she heard a car behind her.
“Prudencia, I have to warn you that if you walk through the woods in those shoes you run the risk of losing your feet and we’ll have to come and rescue you. Can I give you a lift home? I promise not to say anything that could bother you. In fact, I promise not to speak at all.”
Miss Prim turned and looked at the Man in the Wing Chair with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She had chosen the wrong shoes for snow. Her feet were hurting, they were starting to go numb; she didn’t want to lose them and she definitely didn’t want to have to be rescued.
“I’d be very grateful. I have to admit you were right when you said I shouldn’t walk back.”
“Miss Prim admitting I’m right, I can’t believe it! You must be unwell. Probably the effects of the cold,” he said, leaning over to open the door and offering her a blanket for her legs. “You’re frozen. Would you like some brandy? I know you think I’m a hopeless alcoholic, but try to set aside your unpitying judgment for a moment and have a sip. It’ll warm you.”
She obeyed without a word while he started the engine and turned up the heater. She was too cold to argue, but something in his words compelled her to respond.
“Unpitying judgment? Do you really think my judgment is so unpitying? And I thought it was your religion that condemned drinking. I find it surprising that you should accuse me of being judgmental. I’ve always considered myself a tolerant person.”
“A tolerant person?” he laughed. “Come on, Prudencia, I’d say you were actually extremely strict. I grant you, it’s a wonderful quality for your job, and I’m the main beneficiary, but it must be a heavy burden for your slender shoulders.”
Miss Prim bit her lip, remembering her afternoon at the tearoom and her distress at discovering her facility as a social liar.
“And as for my religion and drinking, you’re a little confused on the matter, though in your defense the confusion is common. Drink, like all the other gifts of Creation, is a good thing, Prudencia. It’s its misuse, or abuse, that accounts for its negative effects.”
For the second time that day, Miss Prim recognized that her companion might be right. But she wasn’t really concerned with drinking or religion just then.
“So you think I’m strict? I thought I was, too, but today I found out that not only is that not true but I’m a deeply hypocritical woman with a tendency to lie.”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked across at her, taken aback.
“I was tempted to respond with a joke to what you’ve just said, but I can see you’re upset. May I ask what’s happened? I promise to be tactful, if that’s possible for me.”
After hesitating a moment, Miss Prim decided to tell him all about it. She was very tired and she longed to pour it all out, to unload the burden of her anguish onto other shoulders. Throughout her life she had made huge efforts to be virtuous and to overcome her faults, and had emerged victorious from many battles, but now she had to admit defeat and acknowledge that her delicacy, the quality she had elevated to the status of an art, was simply a cover.
“So you see,” she said, after recounting the story of her love of animals, the vet, and Judge Bassett, “I’m a common hypocrite, a liar.”
“I’d say you’re more of a fool,” was her companion’s succinct reply.
Miss Prim looked at him aghast, then abruptly unfastened her seat belt.
“Stop the car immediately,” she said with barely contained rage.
“What?”
“I said, stop the car immediately. I’m not staying in here with you a moment longer.”
The Man in the Wing Chair pulled over, turned off the ignition, and lifted both hands from the steering wheel.
“Why the hell must you always be so extreme?”
“Extreme? You think I’m extreme? You get me to open my heart to you, you promise to be tactful, and then when I fall into your trap and confide my concerns, you respond with an insult. Do I need to remind you that you called me a fool? You, who pride yourself on being gentlemanly. You, no one else.”
“Yes, me,” he replied abruptly. “Make no mistake, Prudencia, I’m a man like any other, maybe worse than others. I hope it doesn’t come as a shock to you because it definitely doesn’t to me.”
She made to open the car door, but he put out an arm and firmly held her back.
“Listen carefully. I called you a fool because I think getting upset over what you told me is to behave like a fool. I’m a frank man, probably a little too frank, and you’re right, I’m not very tactful. But you should know me well enough by now to understand that though I may not be a model of tact, I’m a decent person. If I tell you to confide in me it’s because I want to help. So let me speak and listen to what I have to say.”
