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The Other Woman
, c. 1917-1935, (CU2337782) by Eaton, Winnifred. Courtesy of Libraries and Cultural Resources Digital Collections, University of Calgary.
See Editorial Principles.
Nazua Idris is a PhD student in Literary Studies in the Department of English, Washington State University. Her research interest involves exploration of the intersections of 19th and early 20th century transatlantic literature, textual studies, postcolonial and decolonial digital humanities, and digital and decolonial pedagogies.
Sydney Lines is a Ph.D. candidate in English at the University of British Columbia and Project Manager of
See the Biographical Timeline for biographical information on Winnifred Eaton.
Joey Takeda is the Technical Director of
Collection of Winnifred Eaton’s papers and unpublished manuscripts, which were transferred to the University of Calgary in 1982. The finding aid for this material is located here: https://searcharchives.ucalgary.ca/winnifred-eaton-reeve-fonds
The Other Woman
I schemed and plotted to win another woman’s husband. In the beginning, I did not even have the excuse of being in love with him.
I was a widow of a year. My husband had left me moderately provided for. I had a good social position. I had beauty and charm. My husband had been slavishly devoted to me, and after his death I was bewildered and restless without his guiding hand and companionship. I found it difficult to go places unescorted, and envied and resented other women with their husbands in attendance. I hated the role of widow
, and determined that I would not be a widow for long.
There were but few eligible unmarried men in our town, and I was beginning to feel discouraged. Moreover my tastes were extravagant, and my income did not half suffice to gratify my cravings for luxurious and costly things.
Our town is a live prosperous one, with a
and country clubs, where we play tennis, golf, Badminton, Mahjong and other games and sports. We all play bridge. Some of us are fiends at it.
Before my husband’s death, mine was an orchid existence. I lay abed till noon, when my maid prepared my bath and brought me my breakfast. I
It was at a country club dance---a dance that I had to sit out with the older women, as I was still in mourning
. A friend, Jenny Doty, pointed him out to me. She said:
Look who’s here. Gerald Wallace himself. Know him?
I saw a man of about thirty five. He was a large, athletic man’s type of man, keen-eyed, ruddy, with an open air look about him. He was not dancing, but seemed to be looking clear across the room at me.
No--who is he? I never saw him before. New in our town?
No, but he
.
Is that his wife with him?
Oh no--just some girl. His wife’s in California. Been gone three years now. Fancy leaving a man like that
.
A strange excitement went over me. I cannot explain it, though I suppose it was psychic. Jenny was still chattering:
They say he’s staying till he can clear out with a cool million. Then, so they say, he plans to join his wife
.
His wife! From the very first, the thought of her excited and enraged me. I resented her. I hated her unreasonably, blindly. What sort of a woman was she to leave her husband to follow the career of a writer. I am not intellectual, but I am accomplished too in my way, and I know how to charm and attract and please men. I was planning that very moment to use my every wile to fascinate Jerry Wallace. I recognized him as the type of man I wanted---rich, attractive-a real man in every sense of the word, and I am frank to say that I did want a man. I wanted a lover. I wanted the
So as I said, I set out deliberately to court this man. I planned my campaign with care and craft. I learned everything I could about him---his habits, his tastes, his work, his past--how long his wife had been gone, what their life had been together who she was, where they went, who were their particular friends. I even got his financial rating through Bradstreets. I learned that he was not overly fond of society in the sense I
When I had learned all I thought was necessary, I I’m considered a very good teacher
.
He burst out laughing at that, and I immediately joined in with him. He stopped abruptly, and I could see the interest in his eyes, as he deliberately looked me over. (I had
When may we begin the lessons?
I answered jokingly:
Tonight or never!
Fine!
said he. Tonight!
And that was the beginning between us!
It was all so dead easy to start with. One would think he had been looking for just such a woman as I---for a home like mine to go to. And as for me---I knew what I wanted! I intended to have this man so completely under my control
that I could get from him anything I desired. I suppose I would have scorned to consider myself the ordinary gold-digger. Mine was a scientifically planned scheme, and I intended to play my game and my man with
We were both lonely. He was the loneliest man I had ever met. He was like a child, literally craving and hungering for affection and attention. He lived at a hotel, when all his inclinations were toward the intimacies and the comforts of a home. I made my home lovely for him. I would have things for dinner that he liked and that he could not get at the hotel or restaurants. I always looked my best, prettied up for him. I covered up my real character, which was somewhat temperamental and excitable, and I met him always when he came to my house after a day’s work at the office, with a smile, and I made him feel that the house was his and that everything we did was to please him. I had my two little sons at hand when I knew he would be amused or interested. I never let them tire him. They were good looking little fellows and he took to them at once. The boys thought him great. They were a great aid to me in my campaign to win him---and they were the
best of chaperones!
We became a habit with him. He would come straight up from his office to my house and he spent every spare moment with me. We went on
Propinquity means so much. Jerry had been literally hungering for the companionship and the tenderness of a woman, and that I think was what at first attracted and drew
He was a generous lover, and being very rich his gifts were princely ones. Checks, stocks and bonds, diamonds, furs, a new beautiful car, a grand piano, a daily flower account---everything my heart could desire. I had all that, and I tried to assure myself that I had him too. And that was one of the curious parts of our affair. I never felt down in my heart that he was wholly mine. There was something about him, some reserve that I could not reach. I don’t recall his ever actually telling me that he loved me. Many a time I sought to trap him into this admission. I would ask him: Do you love me?
He would turn the subject off with some joking reply such as: Do you have to ask?
or Now what do you think?
But he never actually admitted it. Once he said that his actions spoke louder than words.
I tried to be content with that. I told myself that he never would have lavished all those gifts upon me; he would not seek my company constantly; he could not have those intimate relations with me, if he did not love me, and when his arms were around me all the fears and ghosts of doubt seemed to
There was one subject that became absolutely taboo between us. His wife. He
Looks like rain
. Another time I asked him if she were pretty. He replied Yes
. I came then with: Prettier than I am?
He looked at me queerly then--almost appraisingly, and I did not like that look. I repeated my question, and he replied: Lets go on with the game
. We were playing
Bridge
with a couple of friends. I kept at him, though I realized it irritated him to even mention her name, but I acquired an almost morbid interest in her. I wanted to force him to talk freely about her. I wanted to dig into his feelings and find out how he felt to her now. I was dying to have him say to me that he no longer cared anything at all about her. One day I said: I hear she’s very clever--is she?
I saw his eyes light for a moment, and then he replied evasively: Cleverness is not everything
.
My heart leaped. I felt that
She was more than merely clever. She had everything a man wants in a woman
.
He got up then---he had been sitting beside me, and he took a few strides up and down the room, his brows knotted as if in troubled thought. I could scarcely breathe. It seemed to me an intolerable thing that he should be walking up and down there--thinking of her. It seemed to me that what he had said about her was almost an affront to me. It was more than I could endure. He came back to where I was sitting on the davenport. He said:
I don’t want to talk to you about my wife. Its not decent
.
I covered up my feelings. It was part of my role not to anger or irritate him, and I said with a brave smile:
All right dear. I understand how you feel. I didn’t mean to be inquisitive
.
He made no comment, but he went home early that evening and I had a bad night. I think I cried most of the night. I did’nt realize that I had begun to pay the penalty.
They say I am a woman of tact and ingenuity. I have always had a good social position, and I thought a lot of my position in society. Of course, in a town of this size, it was impossible for us to carry on an affair of this sort without people noticing it. I handled the matter with as
much discretion as I could. Of course, it was impossible to pretend that he was merely a friend. I could not get away with that.
engaged
. Everyone knew his wife had been gone several
As time passed, I became more and more anxious to legitimatize our relations. Finally I summoned the courage to speak to him about it. I said:
Jerry, everyone asks me,
He gave me a quick queer look, then answer with mock seriousness:
A man should be off with the old love before he is on with the new
.
Then why don’t you get off with the old love?
I said daringly. He frowned at that and
Ethel, you knew I was married when we started this affair.
.
What about desertion?
.
No---my wife never deserted me
.
He scowled, stood up and seemed to kind of shake himself. Then he said:
.
But though I did not discuss it, it was on my mind. I could think of nothing else. I told myself, there was only one solution of our problem---divorce and marriage. I wanted him to marry me. Marriage became an obsession with me. And I knew we were being talked about and suspected. I saw that in women’s faces, and men’s too. So I cast about for ways and means to force him to take some definite action. One day I said to him with assumed lightness:
You know Jerry, if you don’t marry me, I can sue you for damages
.
He laughed back at me.
After a moment he said:
My wife’s my insurance!
I could have screamed---but I had to pretend to smile.
What would happen
I said, if your wife and I should come face to face?
He came back swiftly, as if the question amused him:
he said.
I hated her with the intensest hate. What right had she to all this power over him? I was being his real wife---not she----she away out in California, amusing herself with her silly writing. How I wished and longed to say as much to him; but I did not dare. There was always something about him that held me at arms length, and as I have said, she was the one sensitive taboo subject between us.
My love for him grew more and more intense, and I had the desperate feeling that his was waning. In my desperation to hold him, I did indiscreet and foolish things. One day at a luncheon one of the women said:
Oh, they’ve been separated for ages
I returned with assumed lightness. Then, plunging in further I leaned over and said confidentially: He’s going on to Reno in a few weeks now to get his divorce
.
Now I was up against it! I had to make good that boast. I knew the woman I had told it to would spread the story everywhere. Before I realized it, people would stop me on the street to congratulate me. I worked my head
to think out some way by which I could force him actually go to Reno, to get a quick divorce. Once free, I felt sure I could induce him to marry me. I gave a dinner party, and invited twenty guests. Then I had a friend of mine---my lawyer, in fact, announce my engagement to Jerry Wallace. They drank a toast to us. I
When they were all gone, and we were standing in the reception hall, he spoke rather grimly:
Well Ethel, it seems you have put me on the spot
.
I pretended I did not know what he meant. I had been as surprised as he was, when
As a gentleman of course,
.
Yes--yes---what are you going to do Jerry?
It seemed as if he would never answer. Then I saw that his thoughtful expression had somehow softened.
Poor little girl!
he said almost tenderly. That was too much for me. I broke into wild weeping, and he put his arms about me and comforted me. While I cried, he kept reassuring me. I was not to worry any longer. He would do what I wanted. He’d go to Reno. There would be
a divorce. After that----well---he spoke in his whimsical way: It would all be on the knees of the gods.
You mean we will be married?
I asked tremulously.
There was something almost humble in his voice, as he answered:
If you’ll have me!
Have him! I felt almost insanely happy!
A week later, he left by automobile, for Reno. I went part of the way with him. It would be a five days trip by motor. I would have given anything in the world to have accompanied him. But it was not to be, and although I journeyed back to Council City, my heart went with him.
I began to count the days. Six weeks was the legal term of residence. He wrote to me at intervals of only once or twice a week, and his letters were like himself, curiously guarded and curt in tone. He wrote about every subject save the one I was longing to hear about. He wrote of his trip, of the climate, of his camp at Lake Tahoe, the Nevada side, of Reno, with its hectic atmosphere. Not one word or expression of love, save in the end, when he would sign his letters: Affectionately, Gerard Wallace. Never Jerry
--always his full formal name. I tried to write letters to him that would match his own--but I had already sent him several passionate love letters, reeking with my longing for him, and my hopes for our
future.
He had left Council City in the big Cord car which I had thought was mine. As I had no other car, I was handicapped in getting around, so I bought a Ford coupe, and I wrote him about it expecting him to send me a check by return mail to pay for it; but I received no such check.
I was frightfully restless during this long time of waiting, and I affected a gaiety that at times mounted almost to hysteria. I did the most imprudent things. In my anxiety to retain the respect and goodwill of the social world of which I had always been a part, I told everyone that Mr. Wallace was in Reno for the purpose of acquiring a residence to secure a divorce. Friends began to give me engagement showers. I had to live up to the role of an enraged woman, and I bought a Hope Chest and acquired a marvelous trousseau. I found myself acting even to myself. Over and over again I would tell myself that I was engaged to Jerry Wallace; that he was coming back to marry me. I
popular, but I knew too that many of the women were jealous of me. Women are always jealous of members of their sex who are attractive to men. I was demonstrating that my beauty and charm had won for me one of the most
Five weeks went by, four of which had been spent by Jerry Wallace in Nevada. I was obsessed by an inner fever. As I have said I am not clever, and I found it difficult to write letters that I felt would interest him. I had recourse to pamphlets and books, from which I copiously plagiarized. I wrote him all about trees and nature and birds and brooks and God knows what. I think now I must have been awfully silly to write him like that, and I can imagine what his reaction must have been, for he hated affectation and anything that was not natural. But I had to write something, and since he did not write me love letters, a had to fill mine with what I then flattered myself were literary phrases. What a fool I was!
I made trips to his office on one excuse and another. I learned from his office manager that he was in almost daily touch with Jerry, by long distance telephone, and I envied him and resented the fact that he had not telephoned or telegraphed me once.
One day I went to see his lawyer, and I almost passed out when he told me that Jerry had gone on to Los Angeles to see his wife about a final financial settlement. I was filled with a haunting terror. I dreaded the thought of his again coming into personal contact with his wife. I think I must have looked strange, for his lawyer
explained to me that this meeting was necessary. He reassured me and said that Mrs. Wallace’s lawyers had already contacted with her husband’s Nevada attorneys, and the terms of the settlement had been agreed upon. He said that her lawyers had declared Mrs. Wallace was agreeable to the divorce. This at least gave me some relief. She was not going to contest the suit. None the less my hatred for her deepened, and I could not endure the thought of that meeting between them. What would they say to each other? What would they think? How would she look to him? I recalled his words: She has everything a man wants
.
To add to my distress at this time, he did not write to me or send me word for another two weeks, and I had no way of addressing him, for I did not know whether he was back in Nevada or still with her in Los Angeles. There was absolutely nothing I could do, save wait--wait--wait!
The first I knew that he was on his way back to Council City was when I read a note in the paper to the effect that he was expected in town on Saturday. You can imagine how I felt. That a newspaper should have word of his arrival (probably through his office) before I, who expected to be his wife, did, and I had to smile at people I met on the street or who called upon me and pretend that of course I knew he was coming, but that I had hoped to keep it a secret! A secret! As if I could keep anything that concerned him a secret!
Finally his telegram came. He would arrive
Saturday morning, and would call upon me at two. That was all the wire contained. It was signed with his full name.
I spent half the day before he arrived at the Beauty Parlor. I spent the morning of the day itself in bed, to calm and quiet myself. I sent my boys away, for I wanted to see him alone---just we two, face to face again. Then after lunch, from one o’clock on, I began to wait for him. At two o’clock to the minute I heard the front door bell ring-----(he did not use his latchkey!) and forgetting my instructions to my maid, I rushed to the door, pulled it open and precipitated myself into his arms. We were standing in the hall. I became gradually conscious of the fact that he was trying to release my arms from around his neck--that he was freeing himself of my grasp. When that was done, he gave himself a kind of little shake, and then he looked down at me, and I saw that his face was stern and cold.
Let us go inside
he said. His voice was calm, level, cool. It had a guarded sound. I
Whatever is the matter Jerry? You are acting so strangely
.
At that he looked at me from under his knotted brows.
I’m sorry, Ethel
.
Sorry---for what?
I was a prey to a horrid
Sorry to be obliged to tell you that it is all over between us
.
A dead silence fell. I was trying to take that in, to comprehend the full import of his words. I did not know my own voice, and my throat felt dry.
Over? What do you mean?
He spoke slowly, almost as if he were choosing his words.
I don’t want to hurt you; but it is better to tell you the truth. I am not going to marry you. I did not get a divorce
.
I half started up, and he said roughly:
Stay where you are. I’ll try to explain. My wife and I have become reconciled
.
Again that long long silence. Then I began to sob, to beg, to implore, to threaten, to taunt him. I accused him of baseness, of deceit, of brutality. I said I’d kill myself; I’d kill him; I’d kill her. Ah! you all know what a scorned woman
says at such a time. He merely stared down at me, his jaw squared, and in a pause in my outcry, he said firmly:
.
At that I screamed.
His voice was firm as fate.
No--I never told you that, Ethel. I never lied to you. I will not say I was indifferent to you---you attracted me immensely, but your attraction was mainly sexual, and no woman can hold a man purely through sex
.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
says the proverb. How true that is. I felt all hell raging inside me. I don’t know what I said. I talked like a wild woman. I fought like a tigress to hold him---he, who had never been really mine. Then I asked:
Oh please, please, think it all over. Don’t cast me off---don’t discard me. Wait a bit--wait--wait----
.
But my wife is coming---she will arrive within a few days
.
No--no---you can’t bring her here. She can’t come to this town
.
Certainly she is coming here
.
But don’t you see--can’t you understand what that will mean? The whole town knows of our engagement. How can I face the ridicule, the talk, the
.
After a moment he said:
Of course, we’ll have to face the music.
I don’t intend to leave this City
I shouted at him.
Very well. Stay then, and take your medicine
.
I’ll make things hot for her---I’ll----
His face hardened; his eyes had almost a look of hate in them. They held mine, and were dead cold.
Look here Ethel, I want to do the fair thing by you, but I warn you if you do one single thing to injure my wife, you’ll suffer for it
.
At that I began to laugh hysterically.
Make me suffer, will you! Well what do you think I’m doing now? You can’t make me suffer
You went into this affair with your eyes wide open
he said, speaking coldly and incisively. You knew from the first that I was a married man. You broadcasted an engagement that could not exist.
.
His
The moment I looked at her, my arms ached to hold her. I had one desire---to take my wife in my arms!
I could’nt bear it any longer. No woman could have. I flung myself at him. I tried to claw him. He held my hands down at my sides, and forcibly thrust me back on to the Davenport.
Try to compose yourself
he said. Nothing you can say or do now can alter things
.
But the touch of his hands aroused a fire within me. Something broke all up inside me. I wanted to feel his dear arms around me once again, if only for the last time. I was mad for the pressure of his lips on mine.
Oh Jerry
I implored, Take me in your arms again. Kiss me for the last time
.
He stared at me, not unkindly, but strangely unmoved. His words cut me to the soul.
No. Apart from the fact that it would not be fair to my wife, it would be odious to me
.
tire of me; there is only one subject I can talk about. From being one of the most sought after women in our town, I know I have become the very laughing stock of Council City. I know that I am the subject of whisper and joke at every tea and bridge. I know that the worst is believed of me. Mrs. Wallace’s arrival created a sensation. Society was not slow in showing which way their favor turned. Morbidly, avidly I read the Society Personals. They are giving teas, dinners, receptions, parties for her---Mrs. Gerald Wallace! As for me----I am paying the penalty--the price exacted of a woman who breaks the Seventh Commandment!