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This is a story of mortality. More than that, it is a story of coming to grips with mortality, and what happens when man realizes his life (and life in general) is finite. Furthermore, the process of living each day provides another chance by which to be happy. Margot wanted dominance in the marriage. She already had power, for she knew Francis wouldn’t leave her; but she wanted more than power, she wanted utter control. This is why I don’t think it was an accident that she killed Francis. In his death, her struggle for control was ended. She cheated on Francis, but he tolerated it. Why? Cause he was a schmuck1. Schmucks tolerate things. Schmucks are apathetic. Schmucks are weak. Bust—most of all—schmucks are cowards. But after Macomber found his courage, after his bloodlust was awakened, he ravaged his past’s set precedent. He told his wife to shut up. That was extraordinarily brave for him. He was now strong, authoritative, and brave instead of weak, tolerant, and cowardly. Basically, he wasn’t a schmuck anymore. He wasn’t apathetic; he was happy. Then he was killed. Murdered. Thus, the title. His life had a good span, but his happy life died in its infancy