{"product_id":"2940012809049","title":"THE BRUTE","description":"CHAPTER I\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEvery evening, almost, Donald Rogers and his wife Edith sat in a plain\u003cbr\u003elittle living-room in their apartment in Harlem, and worked until ten or\u003cbr\u003eeleven o'clock. By that time they were both ready to go to bed. It was\u003cbr\u003enot very exciting. Edith darned stockings or sewed; Donald toiled at\u003cbr\u003ehis desk, writing letters--going over reports. Sometimes, very rarely,\u003cbr\u003ethey went to the theater. They had done the same thing for nearly eight\u003cbr\u003eyears, and to Edith, at least, it seemed a very long time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe room in which they sat reflected in its furnishings much of the\u003cbr\u003elife these two led. It seemed to suggest, in every line, an unceasing\u003cbr\u003econflict between poverty and ambition--not, indeed, the poverty of the\u003cbr\u003ereally poor, of those in actual want, but the poverty of the well born,\u003cbr\u003eof those whose desires are forever infinitely beyond their means.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis was evidenced by many curious contrasts. The furniture, for\u003cbr\u003einstance, was for the most part of that cheap and gloomy variety known\u003cbr\u003eas mission oak, yet the designs were good, as though its purchasers had\u003cbr\u003estriven toward some ideal which they had not the means to realize.\u003cbr\u003eThe rug on the floor, an imitation oriental, was still of excellent\u003cbr\u003ecoloring; the pictures showed taste in their selection--such taste,\u003cbr\u003eindeed, as is possible under the limitations imposed by a slender\u003cbr\u003epurse--among them might have been discovered a charming little\u003cbr\u003ewater-color and some reproductions of etchings by Whistler.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe curtains were imitation lace, the ornaments on the mantel imitation\u003cbr\u003ebronze, the cushions in the Morris chair imitation Spanish leather. The\u003cbr\u003ekeynote of the whole room was imitation--everything in it, almost, was\u003cbr\u003ethe result of refinement and excellent taste on the one hand, hampered\u003cbr\u003eby lack of money on the other. The effect was somewhat that given by\u003cbr\u003etwenty dollar sets of ermine furs, or ropes of pearls at bargain-counter\u003cbr\u003eprices. Edith, caring more about such matters than her husband, realized\u003cbr\u003ethis note of imitation keenly, but found it more satisfactory to have\u003cbr\u003eeven the shadow of what she really desired than to drop back to another\u003cbr\u003elevel of existence, and content herself with ingrain carpets, shiny\u003cbr\u003eyellow furniture, and the sort of pictures made of mother of pearl,\u003cbr\u003ewhich are given away with tea-store coupons. In her present environment,\u003cbr\u003eshe chafed--in the other, she would have been suffocated.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn this particular night in March, they were at home as usual. Donald\u003cbr\u003ehad composed himself at his desk, hunched over, his head resting upon\u003cbr\u003ehis left hand, staring at the papers before him. The only sound in the\u003cbr\u003eroom was the ticking of the trading-stamp clock on the mantel, and the\u003cbr\u003eclanking of the steam pipes. For a long time Donald stared, and wrote\u003cbr\u003enothing. Suddenly he turned to his wife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For Heaven's sake, Edith,\" he exclaimed impatiently, \"what's the matter\u003cbr\u003ewith those pipes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEdith glanced at him, but did not move. She came back slowly from her\u003cbr\u003eland of dreams.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The janitor has probably just turned on the steam. It's been off for\u003cbr\u003ethe past week on account of the warm weather.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDonald rose, and went nervously over to the radiator under the window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I can't write with this infernal noise going on,\" he grumbled, as he\u003cbr\u003eturned to his desk. \"Will it be too cold for you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, no. I'm used to it.\" Mrs. Rogers' tone was patient, resigned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDonald resumed his writing, and sat for a few moments in silence, but\u003cbr\u003ethe tone of his wife's remark had not been lost upon him. He turned\u003cbr\u003etoward her presently, with an anxious look, searching her face keenly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What's the matter, Edith?\" he inquired kindly. \"Don't you feel well?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not particularly.\" Mrs. Rogers' voice was discouraging.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Anything wrong?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You haven't seemed yourself for the past week. You don't seem to take\u003cbr\u003eany interest in things.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What things?\" inquired Edith, with sudden asperity. She took a\u003cbr\u003esufficient interest in the things that seemed worth while to her, she\u003cbr\u003ewell enough knew, but they were not those which made up her present\u003cbr\u003esurroundings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDonald seemed hurt at her tone. He regarded her with an injured\u003cbr\u003eexpression.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Why,\" he ventured hesitatingly, \"all the things that make up our\u003cbr\u003elife--our home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe suggestion was not happy. It was, indeed, those very things that\u003cbr\u003eEdith had been mentally reviewing in her inner consciousness throughout\u003cbr\u003ethe evening, and her conclusions had not been in their favor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The steam pipes, I suppose,\" she returned scornfully, \"and the price of\u003cbr\u003eeggs, and whether we are going to be able to pay our bills next month or\u003cbr\u003enot.\"","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47069551067376,"sku":"2940012809049","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940012809049_p0.jpg?v=1763573019","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940012809049","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}