V
Motoring out to Lakewood when the party was over, tucked in beside Stephen in the front seat of their little Overland, with the children asleep in the tonneau behind them, Jane felt very happy over the events of the evening. She would not have believed it possible that she could have arrived so easily at an understanding with Jimmy. He was obviously very sorry and she had made her attitude quite clear. Jimmy knew now that she was not to be kissed like a chambermaid, caught in an upper corridor. Jimmy knew now that she was not entertained by philandering. Jimmy knew now that she was not that sort of wife to Stephen and that the idea of flirting with Agnes’s husband was, to her, unthinkable. Jimmy knew all those things, though they had not referred to his mistake again after they left the table. Jane had hardly spoken to Jimmy all the latter part of the evening. Jane had talked to her father and Jimmy had hung devotedly over Muriel. He had entered into open competition with Cyril Fortune for her favour and by the end of the party the blond young landscape-gardener was quite sunk in depression. Stephen had talked with his cousin Flora about her new hat shop. He had given her some splendid ideas about cost accounting. Flora had told Jane she was very grateful. Flora was not much of a bookkeeper.
How wise she had been, thought Jane, how very wise, not to have said anything to Stephen about that kiss. Not that wisdom had really entered into her decision to keep silent. In fact, all those weeks, when she had been wondering whether or no to talk to Stephen about it, she had felt that the wiser course would be to make a clean breast of the whole affair. And yet she hadn’t. Partly, of course, because of what Stephen would think of Jimmy, but even more because of what Stephen would think of her. Jane thought very little of herself, as she reviewed the incident. Jimmy had been outrageous—Jimmy had been insulting. Yet Jane could not quite bring herself to tell the story to Stephen in the role of the betrayed damsel. Jane knew that she had been growing very fond of Jimmy. Jane knew that she had liked his flattering attention. And Jane knew that, though she had not expected his kiss and certainly had resented it, yet, after she had had it, she had not been able to get it out of her mind, out, indeed, of the very fibre of her being. That was the kind of thing a wife could not tell a husband—not a husband like Stephen, at least, who had never even glanced at another woman since the day he had married her. Stephen would never understand how she could have thought about that kiss, the way she had. And if she did not tell him that, she really would not be telling him anything. Half-truths had no place in conjugal confidence. Half-truths were cowardly, misleading. Half-truths were really lies. Whereas silence was—merely silence. No—it was not the kiss half as much as the way she had felt about it.
What was a kiss, after all? Lots of women were kissed. Some of them had told her about it. Muriel was often kissed, and thought nothing of it. It was the thinking something of it that really counted. Jane had been awfully troubled.
But now, she felt, she had been very wise not to tell Stephen. The incident was over. It was forgiven and—well, if not yet forgotten, it soon would be. Jane hoped she was not going to spend the rest of her life remembering that Stephen’s wife had been kissed by Agnes’s husband and had liked it. Yes, liked it, in retrospect. Jimmy had learned his lesson. It would not happen again.
Jimmy had not even asked when he might come out to see her. When he had said good night, he had left her to interpret the expression of his wistful eyes in silence. It was Stephen who had said in parting, “How about dinner on Friday, Jimmy? It’s fish night. You ought to taste Jane’s receipt for planked whitefish!” Even then he had not responded with a questioning glance at her. She had slipped her arm through Stephen’s and said serenely, “Of course, Jimmy. Just a family party.” And he had accepted without undue rejoicing. No grateful, penitent glances. Nothing to shame her before Stephen’s innocence.
Jimmy knew, now. There would be no more mistakes in the future. Jane snuggled down against Stephen’s shoulder under the furry lap-robe. He took his eyes from the road a moment to smile down into her face.
“Nice party, wasn’t it?” said Stephen.
“I had a lovely time,” said Jane, smiling softly. She kept on smiling all the way to Lakewood. A sleepy, reassured, little smile.