Seed on the Wind

“It took a lot of courage to come, didn’t it?” Lora observed. “You needn’t have bothered. I have nothing against you.”

Anne had had to come, she said. It had taken courage all right. If Lora didn’t have anything against her she was an angel; she must have, she couldn’t help it. “I hate myself, I can’t expect you to forgive me,” Anne said. “I would have done anything, that’s all there is to it. I’d do anything for him, and he loves me, he does truly love me. You do believe he loves me, don’t you, Lora?”

Lora pitied her a little. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Yes, he loves you. He was through with me anyway.”

Anne nodded eagerly. “That’s it. He told me so a long while ago, two months ago, in March it was, you remember the night you wouldn’t go to dinner with us and we went to a party at Joe Curtis’s? I told him it wasn’t any use, he’d have to stick to you, he really ought to marry you I said, and he was wild, he swore you’d played a trick on him and were trying to force him into it and he wouldn’t stand for it. I didn’t believe that, of course I told him I didn’t believe it. We were in that little alcove at Joe’s, and he put his arms around me...”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lora, who had resumed her sewing, wishing the little idiot would go.

“Anyway,” said Anne, and stopped. “I don’t know how to say it,” she continued, “but anyway it’s about money. I know you haven’t got any, and here—” she was fumbling in her purse — “here’s twenty dollars — of course it isn’t much—” She laid two ten-dollar bills on the corner of the bed; one of them slid to the floor and she picked it up and put it back. Lora looked at her, at the money, and back at her again.

“Steve didn’t send that,” Lora said.

“I get a little from my father,” said Anne. “Please don’t be angry. Steve doesn’t realize, it isn’t that he doesn’t care, he just doesn’t realize...”

“I need it all right.” Lora picked up the bills, folded them, and placed them on Anne’s lap. “Steve’s out of it, I wouldn’t even take the trouble to call him names. The only thing I’m concerned about is the baby. I need money all right, but I’d rather not take yours.” She grinned. “You’ll need it too, see if you don’t. Not for a baby maybe. Perhaps you’ll need it to get Steve out of jail, you’d better hang onto it.”

“Jail!” Anne stared at her.

“Don’t be frightened; nothing will happen probably. He got himself exempted by calling himself married, maybe he said I was pregnant too, I don’t know. I don’t blame him; I wouldn’t want to go to war either.”

Anne had jumped to her feet, fright and terror in her eyes. “I didn’t know — good god, they might shoot him — they might take him — if you don’t tell— Oh, Lora, for god’s sake don’t tell—”

“It isn’t that, why should I tell, but there must be people who know about it.”

Lora was sorry she had mentioned it, there had been no gratification in it anyway; and now she had a terrified and imploring Anne on her hands, begging her not to tell, begging her to do something — tell everybody they were married, for instance — anything to save Steve, careless and imprudent but well-meaning Steve. Finally with a flood of promises and reassurances Lora got rid of her — got her out of the room and the door shut, and heard her footsteps clumsily negotiating the dark narrow uncarpeted stairs. Then she restored the wooden chair to its office of sewing-table and picked up another coat. Stupid fool I was, she thought, to say anything about it.