THE ESCAPE

THE ESCAPE

 by S. Maugham

I have always been convinced that if a woman once made up her mind to marry a man nothing but instant flight could save him. I have only once known a man who in such circumstances managed to extricate himself. His name was Robert Charing. He was no longer young when he fell in love with Ruth Barlow and he had sufficient experience to make him careful; but Ruth Barlow had a gift (but should I call it a quality?) that renders most men defenceless, and it was this that dispossessed Roger of his common sense, his prudence and his worldly wisdom. He went down like a row of ninepins. This was the gift of pathos. Mrs. Barlow, for she was twice widow, had splendid dark eyes and they were the most moving I ever saw; they seemed to be ever on the point of filling with tears; they suggested that the world was too much for her, and you felt that, poor dear, her sufferings had been more than anyone should be asked to bear. If, like Roger Charing, you were a strong, hefty fellow with plenty of money, it was almost inevitable that you should say to yourself: I must stand between the hazards of life and this helpless little thing, or, how wonderful it would be to take the sadness out of big and lovely eyes! I gathered from Roger that everyone had treated Mrs. Barlow very badly. She was apparently one of those unfortunate persons with whom nothing by any chance goes right. If she married a husband he beat her; if she employed a broker he cheated her; if she engaged a cook she drank.

When Roger told me that at last he persuaded to marry him, I wished him joy.

“I hope you’ll be good friends,” he said. “She is a little afraid of you, you know; she thinks you’re callous.”

“Upon my world I don’t know why she should think that.”

“You do like her, don’t you?”

“Very much.”

I couldn’t say less. I knew she was stupid and I thought she was scheming. My own belief was that she was as hard as nails.

Roger introduced her to his friends. He gave her lovely jewels. He took her here, there, and everywhere. Their marriage was announced for the immediate future. Roger was very happy. He was committing a good action and at the same time doing something he had very much a mind to.

Then, on a sudden, he fell out of love. I do not know why. It could hardly have been that he grew tired of her conversation, for she had never had any conversation. Perhaps it was merely that this pathetic look of hers ceased to wring his heart-strings. He became acutely conscious that Ruth Barlow had made up her mind to marry him and he swore a solemn oath that nothing would induce him to marry Ruth Barlow. But he was in a quandary. It is always awkward for a man to jilt a woman. People are apt to think that he has behaved badly.

Roger kept his own counsel. He gave neither by word nor gesture an indication that his feelings towards Ruth Barlow had changed. He sent her flowers; he was sympathetic and charming. They made up their minds that they would be married as soon as they found a house that suited them. The agents sent Roger orders to view and he took Ruth to see a number of houses. They visited house after house. They went over them thoroughly, examining them from the cellar in the basement to the attics under the roof. Sometimes they were too large and sometimes they were too small, sometimes they were too expensive and sometimes they wanted too many repairs; sometimes they were too stuffy and sometimes they too airy, sometimes they were too dark and sometimes too bleak. Roger always found a fault that made the house unsuitable. Of course he was hard to please; he couldn’t bear to ask his dear Ruth to live in any but the perfect house. They looked at hundreds of houses; they climbed thousands of stairs; they inspected innumerable kitchens. Ruth was exhausted and more than once lost her temper.

“Don’t say that,” he answered. “I beseech you to have patience. I’ve just received some entirely new lists from agents I’ve only just heard of. There must be at least sixty houses on them.”

They set out on the chase again. For two houses they looked at houses. Ruth grew silent and scornful: her pathetic, beautiful eyes acquired an expression that was almost sullen.

“Do you want to marry me or do you not?”

There was an unaccustomed hardness in her voice, but it did not affect gentleness of his reply.

“Of course I do. We’ll be married the very moment we find a house. By the way I’ve heard of something that might suit us.”

“I don’t feel well enough to look at any more houses just yet.”

“Poor dear, I was afraid you were looking rather tired.”

Ruth Barlow took to her bed. Every day Roger wrote and told her that he had heard of another house for them to look at. A week passed and then he received the following letter:

Roger,

I do not think you really love me. I have found someone who is anxious to take care care of me and I’m going to be married to him today.

Ruth.

He sent back his reply by special messenger:

Ruth,

Your news shatters me. I shall never get over the blow, but of course your happiness must be first consideration. I sent you herewith seven orders to view; they arrived by this morning’s post and I’m quite sure you will find among them a house that will exactly suit you.

Roger.

Task 1. Read the text be ready to discuss it paying attention to the words in bold.
Task 2. Write linguo-stylistic analysis of the text.