He believes it might have been Mark Twain who said that history does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme. This is how he and Babe are. They rhyme. They form couplets from their experiences. They make discordant verse from the women in their lives.
His is the old dance, with new steps. He marries Ruth—no Mexican wedding this time, but proper nuptials. He marries Ruth because it is still better than being alone. It pains him to see Lois, and it pains him not to see Lois, but he does not know if what he is experiencing is truly love or simply regret, or to what extent his acumen is clouded by his desire to see more of his daughter. To be separated from the wife is to be separated from the child; he cannot have one without the other.
He has stopped trying to convince Lois to take him back. Lois tells him that he has hurt her too much, and she fears any reconciliation would only be temporary.
You have not changed, Lois says. I don’t believe that you can.
—I don’t know what you mean.
Lois laughs.
—Go back to Mexico. Have someone translate the drivel that passes for your marriage license.
So he marries Ruth for the second time—he hears Jimmy Finlayson joke that just because you repeat something doesn’t make it true; he is annoyed at first, but less at Jimmy Finlayson than at the bite of truth—and names his boat after her.
Yet if he cannot fathom the true nature of his feelings for Lois, he can identify his feelings for Ruth. He recognizes that he does not love her as he loved—or continues to love—Lois, and Ruth is too clever not to perceive this. Even his own essence appears to be rebelling against the relationship; he has been ill since the wedding.
Babe also sees it. He has always struggled to hide his unhappiness from Babe.
But Babe keeps his distance. Babe is too sensitive to intrude.
Babe, meanwhile, performs the old dance, with the old partners and the old steps.
Myrtle in, Myrtle out.
Viola Morse out, Viola Morse in.
Babe tries to stay away from Rosemead while Myrtle is receiving treatment. Babe’s visits do Myrtle no good, because in her pain, Myrtle rages. Myrtle rails at Babe about the other women in his life, and so Babe’s guilt increases. Viola Morse offers Babe companionship and affection, and does not ask Babe to leave Myrtle. If the strain becomes too much for either Babe or Viola Morse, they separate for a period, and Babe looks elsewhere for affection or does without until providence bring them together again.
He, too, is careful with Babe’s feelings. They are public figures, but private men. Only rarely does Babe speak aloud of his problems.
Sometimes, Babe says, I can’t decide which is worse: to have Myrtle drinking, or not to have her drinking. When she’s drinking, it’s bad, but when she’s not drinking, well, it’s like living with a bomb in the house. The bomb is ticking, and you know it’s going to explode, so you just spend your days waiting for the bang. And when it happens, you’re almost relieved.
Babe knows when Myrtle is about to start drinking again from the variance in her voice and gestures. This is how closely Babe is attuned to his wife’s distorted rhythms.
As the years go on, he watches the toll that Myrtle takes on Babe, these two people trapped in the decaying patterns of their waltz. Babe believes that Myrtle cannot survive without Babe’s presence in her life as her husband, but it is their marriage that permits her to behave as she does. Myrtle will keep falling, because Babe is always waiting to pick her up. In the end, though, Myrtle will destroy Babe just as she is destroying herself. The process has already begun. He bears witness to it. So it is that he dances with Ruth and Lois, and Babe dances with Myrtle and Viola Morse, and he and Babe dance around each other.
He decides to take Babe for dinner to Musso & Frank so that they may clear the air and be honest with each other. They will eat and drink, and he will speak to Babe of his concerns about Myrtle, and if Babe so wishes, Babe may ask him about Ruth and Lois.
And then Thelma Todd dies.