Chapter 9 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks the student to hear the narrator’s dry voice at a place where he looks far past the chapter’s story. In the third paragraph, before Catherine appears, he says Mr. Edwards grew his circuit to groups of four girls in thirty-three towns, and died “at sixty-seven of strangulation on a chicken bone.” Then: “He was better than well fixed—he was rich; and the manner of his death was in itself symbolic of success and well-being.” The student decides who the joke is aimed at. It feeds the hinge: we know from the start that the man at the stone wall lives on, rich, and at the end “No question was ever asked of him.” The card must not treat the joke as the book’s settled verdict on him; it is a voice to be heard.

One reading

On Mr. Edwards. A man who runs his trade with “a public accountant’s neatness and accuracy” dies choking on a chicken bone, killed by plenty. No constable, preacher or woman brought him down; a bone did. The narrator lays a grand phrase over a silly death, and the man shrinks under it.

• Before he died at sixty-seven of strangulation on a chicken bone, he had groups of four girls in each of thirty-three small towns in New England.
• He ran his business with a public accountant’s neatness and accuracy.

Another reading

On the world that called him a success. In his day a man “wanted to be fat if only to prove he was a success,” and a whoremaster could keep a good house in Boston with his sons entered at Groton. The joke is on that idea of success. A man who nearly beats a woman to death lives to sixty-seven, rich, and no one asks him a single question.

• He was a large and powerful man, running a little to fat in his late forties, and yet in surprisingly good condition for a time when a man wanted to be fat if only to prove he was a success.
• No question was ever asked of him.

Listen for

• Notices what the early news does to the story: we know before Catherine arrives that he lives long and rich, so whatever danger the chapter holds, it is not to his life.
• Hears the dry turn of “better than well fixed—he was rich,” and asks whether the narrator admires the man or mocks him.
• Carries the joke to the chapter’s end, where he says “A man who can’t learn from experience is a fool” and goes back to business.
• Keeps the narrator’s voice apart from the book’s last word: this is a teller with a dry wit, not a ruling.

If stuck

• How does Mr. Edwards die, and how old is he?
• What did a successful man look like in his time, according to the narrator?
• What happens to Mr. Edwards after the stone wall?

A strong answer A strong response names who the joke is on and stands on the page. One reader says Mr. Edwards: the orderly, powerful man is undone by a chicken bone, and the grand phrase only makes him smaller. Another says the world that called him a success: a time when fat proved success, a Boston house and Groton for the sons, and at the end no question asked. The best answers notice that the narrator gives away the man’s long, rich life before the story starts, and ask what that does to everything that follows.

What it asks It asks why the rule that should have kept Catherine out fails. In his trade Mr. Edwards already knows that love is a danger: “He did not want very pretty girls either. Some local young man might fall in love with a pretty whore and there would be hell to pay.” Catherine is “far too pretty for his business,” and “If he had not been weak he would have rejected her instantly.” Instead, during the routine questions, “something in Mr. Edwards’ body began to feel her,” and before the interview ends he is offering to help her find the interest money. The student says why the rule did not hold. It feeds the hinge: the man plans for love as a danger in other men, and not in himself. The card must not say how she heard of him; the narrator says “I don’t know.”

One reading

He never pictured himself in it. The rule guards against a “local young man,” never against the man who made it. Love is a risk he manages in others, like the hungry constables. The narrator says he would have laughed at a story about a man like himself, and that he had never been in love. A rule cannot guard a man against a danger he does not believe he carries.

• If in all the years Mr. Edwards had heard about anyone like himself he would have laughed.
• But he didn’t know about himself, because in all his life he had never been in love with a woman.

Another reading

The rule works by looking, and that morning he did not look. Sick from the chowder, he does not take her in at first. By the time he looks up, his body has already answered for him. A rule is only as good as the eye that keeps it, and she came on the one morning his eye was shut.

• For this reason he did not take in all at once the girl who called herself Catherine Amesbury.
• If he had not been weak he would have rejected her instantly.

Listen for

• Hears the narrator’s doubt at the end of the scene, “or had she?”, and asks whether the weak morning was her luck or her moment, while keeping to “I don’t know” on how she found him.
• Hears the second warning, “a little warning buzz did sound in his brain, but it was not loud enough,” and asks what drowned it out.
• Notices that the rule comes true: there is hell to pay. Asks who pays it, he with his nerves and his money, or she at the stone wall.
• Sets this rule beside his other one, never to believe his girls, and notices that both break in the same few minutes.

If stuck

• Why does Mr. Edwards turn very pretty girls away?
• What is wrong with him the morning she comes in?
• Who does he picture falling in love when he makes the rule?

A strong answer A strong response says why the rule fails and stands on the first part. One reader says he never pictured himself in it: the rule guards against some local young man, and he is a man who would have laughed at a story about himself. Another says the rule needs a watchful eye, and on the one weak morning he did not look until his body had answered. The best answers notice that his own trade had already told him love was the danger, and keep the narrator’s “or had she?” open on how much of that morning was her doing.

What it asks It asks the student to test one line of the narrator’s against the second part. “To Catherine, Mr. Edwards was as cold a business proposition as his units were to him. And as he had his techniques, so had she hers.” His techniques are set out in the first part: no girl who is not properly stupid, no very pretty ones, short stays, percentages, no belief in anything his girls say, and the quirt. Hers follow. She seems restless, is out when he comes, makes an honest errand sound false (“And she made it sound like a lie.”), takes the large bills from his pockets, pads the bills and mortgages the house he gave her. The student says how far the match holds and where it breaks. It feeds the hinge: her cold planning is his own trade turned on him, and the one tool she has that his girls never had is his love. The card must not say she saw other men; the page says she did not.

One reading

Close. She runs him the way he runs his girls. He believes nothing his girls say, and she makes even the true things she says sound false. His business runs on percentages, and she takes her cut from his pockets, the grocery bills and the house. He made few mistakes in his trade, and she makes none in hers: she waits until he is ready, and then she steals.

• And as he had his techniques, so had she hers.
• When she had successfully reduced him to a pulp, and Catherine knew exactly when the time had come, she began to steal from him.

Another reading

It breaks where it matters. His girls never had a hold on him; he picks them stupid and keeps them with the quirt. Catherine has the one hold none of them had: he loves her. Her methods work because his love does half the work. He sees the theft and lets it go on. A unit can be whipped into line, but a man in love does the damage to himself.

• He didn’t dare accuse her for fear she would go away.
• He could not bring himself to stop it.

Listen for

• Hears “And she made it sound like a lie” beside his rule never to believe his girls, and notices that she feeds his rule instead of fighting it.
• Sets “with satisfaction,” as she watches his nerves go, beside the disgust in which he gave up on the converted girls, and asks which of them is colder.
• Hears that she is faithful “in the sense that she did not receive or visit other men,” and that she will not let him know it: the one fact that might ease him is the one she keeps back.
• Keeps the line clear: she sees no other men, and the page never says otherwise.

If stuck

• What are Mr. Edwards’s rules for his girls in the first part?
• What does Catherine do when she knows he is coming to the house?
• What hold does she have on him that none of his girls ever had?

A strong answer A strong response says how far the match holds and stands on the second part. One reader says it is close: she uses his own methods on him, from feeding his distrust to taking her cut, and she knows exactly when to start. Another says it breaks where it matters: his girls never had a hold on him, and Catherine works through his love, which leaves him unable to accuse her or stop her. The best answers notice what she keeps from him, that she sees no other men, and ask whether a man in business could ever be fooled the way a man in love is.

What it asks It asks what Catherine’s one calm sentence in the champagne scene is for. From the first she refuses the champagne: “It makes me sick.” One evening it occurs to him that “he knew nothing about her. Wine might loosen her tongue.” He presses: “Do you want me to be angry with you?” and “Drink it.” She drinks, stands “quivering, seeming to listen”, pours two more, and her eyes become “set and cold.” Then: “I didn’t want to do it. Remember that.” She says it to him. The student says why she wants him to keep it. It feeds the hinge: this is the one time her planning fails, and the line shows how much of the planner is left as it fails. The card must not say what the champagne does to her or why; the page shows the change and explains nothing. It must not treat her talk of the cribs as true; she says it in rage, to wound him.

One reading

As a charge. He pressed past every refusal to loosen her tongue, and she makes him own what comes. A minute later she names his motive and throws it back at him. Even as she loses command, she keeps accounts, as calmly as he keeps his.

• Wine might loosen her tongue.
• You thought I would talk. Well, I’m talking.

Another reading

As an excuse for later. She lays down the story she will need when this is over: she never wanted the glass, he made her drink it. In the next part she works to restore his picture of her, and he tells himself she was hysterical. The narrator says Catherine made that easier for him. The line is the first step of the repair.

• Her outbreak had terrified her, and for a time she made every effort to restore his sweet picture of her.
• He told himself that she was hysterical and tried to believe it, and it was made easier for him by Catherine.

Listen for

• Hears “calmly” in a scene where the blood flows to her cheeks and her eyes go cold, and asks what in her is still in command.
• Weighs the narrator’s word “slip” against the scene: she refused and he pressed. Asks why the narrator still calls the slip hers.
• Hears the lines just before the scene, “even a clever woman misses some of the strange corridors in a man,” and asks which corridor in him she missed that evening.
• Keeps to the page: it never says what the champagne does to her or why, or whether the cribs are true.

If stuck

• What reason does Catherine give for refusing the champagne?
• Why does he want her to drink it that night?
• What does she do in the next part to repair that evening?

A strong answer A strong response says why she wants him to remember and stands on the scene. One reader hears a charge: he pressed the glass on her to loosen her tongue, and she makes him own what follows, then names his motive a minute later. Another hears an excuse laid down for later: the next part shows her working to restore his sweet picture of her, and him helped to believe she was only hysterical. The best answers notice that either way she is still planning at the moment she loses control, and weigh why the narrator calls the slip hers when he pressed the glass on her.

What it asks It asks the student to read one sentence of packing. A clipping comes from his agency, “an old newspaper account of a fire from a small-town weekly.” A redness glows in his head, he lies face down on his office couch, and then he grows calm: “his mind cut its intention through time like the sharp beam of a searchlight through a dark room.” Then he moves slowly, “checking his suitcase just as he always did when he started out to inspect his units—clean shirts and underwear, a nightgown and slippers, and the heavy quirt with the lash curving around the end of the suitcase.” The student says what the plain things do beside the weapon. It feeds the hinge: here his love, mixed with fear, has turned into a plan. The card must not say what the clipping proved about Catherine or the fire; the page gives only the clipping and his question. It must not dwell on the beating; the question lives in the hour before it.

One reading

They make the quirt ordinary. He packs for her the way he packs for any of his units, and the whip lies among clean shirts as one more thing for the trip. At her door he tells her she is going to work. The slippers show how calm and how planned his cruelty has become, and her eyes search him for a soft place and find none.

• He moved slowly, checking his suitcase just as he always did when he started out to inspect his units
• Her eyes probed and searched him, seeking a soft place, but his eyes were flat and hard.

Another reading

They show a man who does not know where he is going. A nightgown and slippers are for nights at an inn, the plan he thinks he has: whip her, put her in a room, move her to the next town. By dusk he is running, and the suitcase, slippers and all, lies by the wall. The list measures how little he knows about himself.

• Mr. Edwards thought he knew what he intended to do.
• He ran from the place, leaving his suitcase, leaving the quirt, leaving the oak box of money.

Listen for

• Hears the slippers beside the first page, where he manages “an amazingly domestic life,” and asks which man is packing.
• Notices that she answers the bell at once, in her coat and hat, after months of making him wait.
• Notices that the quirt has failed once already: the converted girls begged for more. At the wall, “After two slashes the quirt was not enough.”
• Keeps to the page: the clipping is about a fire, and he asks if she remembers it. What it proves is never said.

If stuck

• What does Mr. Edwards usually pack this suitcase for?
• What happens to him in the minutes after he reads the clipping?
• Where is the suitcase at the end of the chapter?

A strong answer A strong response says what the slippers do and stands on the packing and what follows it. One reader says they make the quirt ordinary: he goes to her as to one of his units, calm and planned, and she finds no soft place in him. Another says they show a man who thinks this is one more trip: he packs for nights at an inn and a plan he believes in, and by dusk he has run, leaving the suitcase by the wall. The best answers notice that for this one hour he is as cold and planned as she has been, and hold that beside the wall, where his cold control bursts.

What it asks It asks the student to read the phrase the narrator gives Mr. Edwards for the rest of his life. After the stone wall he runs, “wondering only where he could hide his sickness for a while.” His wife nurses him “tenderly.” “No question was ever asked of him.” He goes back to business “and never again let the insanity of love come near him. A man who can’t learn from experience is a fool, he said. Always afterward he had a kind of fearful respect for himself. He had never known that the impulse to kill was in him.” The student builds a thesis on what he respects, meets the strongest objection, and revises. It feeds the hinge: what he learns about himself is half of the last question. The card must not claim he knew whether Catherine lived; the page says only that he listened for her heartbeat and could hear nothing over his own.

One reading

A power. The cold, careful man finds more in himself than he knew, and something in him is impressed. Once he runs, the page gives him no thought of her; he wonders only where to hide his sickness. His lesson is a businessman’s: avoid the risk and keep the profit. The respect is close to pride.

• He blundered away in the dusk, wondering only where he could hide his sickness for a while.
• A man who can’t learn from experience is a fool, he said.

Another reading

A danger. He respects himself the way a man respects a bad horse: with care. The respect is “fearful,” and the care shows in what he does. He keeps love away for good. Even at the wall, one voice in him cried that he could not bear to touch her. What he respects is the thing that frightens him.

• After a time of sickness to which his wife ministered tenderly, he went back to his business and never again let the insanity of love come near him.
• And the other cried like a child, “I can’t stand it. I couldn’t bear to touch her.”

Listen for

• Notices what is missing from his thoughts afterward: the page gives his sickness and his lesson, and no thought of whether Catherine lived.
• Hears the irony in “A man who can’t learn from experience is a fool,” and asks what he learned, and whether it was what the stone wall taught.
• Weighs “respect” against “fearful,” and asks which word carries the sentence.
• Remembers the first page: this is the man who dies rich at sixty-seven. Asks whether his lesson served him, and at what cost to anyone else.

If stuck

• What does Mr. Edwards think about as he runs from the stone wall?
• What does he decide never to let near him again?
• What had he never known about himself before that night?

A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis on what he respects, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says he respects a power: the cold man finds a force in himself, feels no grief, and turns it into a rule of business. The strongest objection is the word “fearful,” and the voice at the wall that could not bear to touch her: what he respects may be what he dreads. A good revision might hold that the respect is both, a man impressed and frightened by the same discovery, while the page gives him no thought of whether she lived. The best answers carry this into the last question: having learned what was in him, he decides the danger was love.

What it asks It asks the chapter’s whole question. Two dangers run through it. Catherine’s is cold planning: the cat smile and the mortgage story, the restlessness she puts on, the stolen bills and the mortgaged house, the changed lock, the knife in her purse. His is love, which the narrator calls “a crippling emotion” in a man like him; it ruins his judgment, and when fear mixes in, “the precipitate from the mixing of these two is cruelty.” He believes he means only to punish her. At the wall “his cold control was burst through with a red roaring wave,” and “Every blow had been intended to crush her.” The student builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not make Catherine only a victim or Mr. Edwards only a monster; each uses the other. It must not say whose house she reaches, what the champagne does to her, or that her talk of the cribs is true.

One reading

Her cold planning. It works for months on a man who “made few mistakes” in his trade, and it takes him apart: his nerves go, his hands shake, his business slides. She steals from him and mortgages his gift. Even after the champagne she works to restore “his sweet picture of her.” His love is only the lever, and she is the hand on it. She walks to the wall with a knife.

• She saw with satisfaction his nerves begin to go, his hands take to quivering, his loss of weight, and the wild glazed look in his eyes.
• In her purse she had a thin-bladed knife.

Another reading

His love. Her planning takes money, and his love nearly takes a life. The narrator says the cruelty comes from love mixed with fear, and that Mr. Edwards had never known the impulse to kill was in him. On the walk out of town she has “no access to his plan,” and her own, to wait for a chance, is no use. His love, turned cold, packs a quirt and finds a stone. And it is love, not her, that he decides to keep away for the rest of his life.

• That he had not killed Catherine was an accident.
• His frantic hand found a stone on the ground and his cold control was burst through with a red roaring wave.

Listen for

• Notices that the two dangers trade places: in the third part he is the one with a plan, and she is the one waiting for a chance.
• Tests the narrator’s line that love to a man like him is “a crippling emotion”: does it cripple him, or arm him?
• Weighs intent against outcome in “That he had not killed Catherine was an accident.”
• Keeps the ending in view: “Wanting to live,” she drags herself to a gate the chapter does not name.

If stuck

• What does Catherine take from Mr. Edwards over the months, and how?
• What does he plan to do with her in Connecticut, and what does he do instead?
• Who ends the chapter hurt, and who goes on to die rich?

A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says her planning is the greater danger: it takes a hard man apart over months, robs him, and carries a knife to the end. The strongest objection is the stone wall: her plans cost him money, his love nearly costs her life, and the narrator says she lived only by accident. A good revision might hold that her planning is the more skilful danger and his love the more deadly one, because love mixed with fear is the thing he cannot see in himself. The best answers keep each of them using the other, and claim nothing about whose gate she reaches.