Hudson River Bracketed by Edith Wharton

Vance had not seen Lewis Tarrant for a long time. Tarrant was at the office less often than formerly; the practical administration of the New Hour was entrusted to Eric Rauch, who ran it according to his own ideas save when his chief, unexpectedly turning up, upset existing arrangements and substituted new plans of his own. This state of things did not escape the notice of the small staff. It was rumoured that Tarrant was losing interest--then again that he was absorbed in the writing of a novel; it was agreed that, in any case, something was wrong with his nerves. Handling Tarrant had always been a gingerly business; Rauch was the only man supple enough to restore his good-humour without yielding to him; and even Rauch (as he told Vance) never knew beforehand whether he was going to pull it off or not. "The trouble is, he's got enough ideas to run a dozen reviews; and he wants to apply them all to this one poor rag." The result was that the rag was drooping; and as soon as an enterprise gave the least sign of failure it was Tarrant's instinct to disclaim all responsibility for it.

His frequent absences had been a relief to Vance. When the two did meet, though usually it was only to exchange a few words, Vance felt unhappy in the other's presence. To any one less simplehearted it might have been easier to despise the husband of the woman he worshipped than to be on friendly terms with him; but his opinion of Tarrant added to Vance's general distress of mind. It made him utterly wretched to think of Halo Tarrant's life being spent with a man for whom she must feel the same contempt that Tarrant excited in him; and since his last talk with her--since she had uttered that "I won't take a lover while I have a husband" which still filled him with its poignant music--his feeling for her husband had hardened to hatred. His own grievance against Tarrant played little part in this, except insofar as it showed him the kind of man she was chained to; but he wondered bitterly how she could consider the tie binding. In his own case it was different; he was bound to Laura Lou by her helplessness and his own folly, and the bond seemed to him so sacred that he had at once acknowledged the force of Halo's argument. He knew he could not abandon his wife for the woman he loved; he owned the impossibility and bowed to it. But Halo's case was different. Tarrant was not an object of pity; and what other feeling could hold her to him?