trus’ nohow.” “But what do you suppose made him do it?” “Nobody knows whut a man’s gwine do, w’en it comes to gittin’ married.” [13]“But to leave her like that, Sophy. I should think she’d die.” [13] “Effen the good Lord let women die w’en men ’ceived them,” Sophy proclaimed with a chuckle, “dere wouldn’ be a female lef’ w’en the trump sounded.” Her tray was piled high with dishes, as she stood in the dining-room door. “Does you-all want rice puddin’ fo’ dinnah, Miss Janey?” And there the subject dropped. But Jane thought a great deal about it as she went on with her work. She told her sister, Julia, about it when, late that afternoon, she wrote her weekly letter. CONTENTS [14] [15] “The worst of it must have been to lose her faith in things. I’d rather be Jane Barnes without any love affair than Edith Towne with a love affair like that. Baldy told me the other day that I am not unattractive! Can’t you see him saying it? And he doesn’t think me pretty. Perhaps I’m not. But there are moments, Judy, when I like myself——! “Baldy nearly had a fit when I bobbed my hair. But I did it and took the consequences, and it’s no end comfortable. Baldy at the present moment is mid-Victorian. It is his reaction from the war. He says he is dead sick of flappers. That they are all alike—and make no appeal to the imagination! He came home the other night from a dance and read Tennyson—can you fancy that after the way he used to fling Amy Lowell at us and Carl Sandburg? He says he is so tired of short skirts and knees and proposals and cigarettes that he is going to hunt with a gun, if he ever decides to marry, for[14] an Elaine or a Griselda! But the worst of it is, he takes it out on me! I wish you’d see the way he censors my clothes and my manners, and I sit here like a prisoner in a tower with not a man in sight but Evans Follette, and he is just a heartache, Judy. [14]
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