Marriage to a man whom the world regarded as a genius was evidently going to be hard. There had been difficult times, of course: Martha had felt both guilty and resentful when forced to resist Ernest’s hopes of a baby daughter she’d suffered a shaming degree of bitterness when their respective war novels were published, and her own thin reviews for The Heart of Another were eclipsed by the tidal wave that had greeted For W hom the Bell T olls. We are a good pair.” She believed she had gone into the marriage with open eyes, that she had fully got the measure of her husband, and that marrying did not have to spell the end of her independence, nor her ability to live “simple and straight.” The wedding had taken place on November 21, 1940-a modest event, held in the dining room of the Union Pacific Railroad at Cheyenne-and afterwards she’d written confidently to Eleanor Roosevelt, “Ernest and I belong tightly together.
Martha Gellhorn was surprised, at first, by the pleasure she got from becoming Mrs.
