Page:Angna Enters - Among the Daughters.djvu/410

 "That doesn't have to make him wrong, or prejudiced. After all, some people like one thing, some another."

"It is my profound conviction, as Semy puts it," Vida said, "that Twadell, like Ilona, has no idea what the modern art movement is about and they have plenty of company in their demi-monde."

"That's not nice. You're just saying that because he preferred her to me. In some ways you remind me of Vermillion."

"That's a compliment—do I have to give you one in return?"

"I might as well get up, but I don't know what for," Lucy said dejectedly, throwing back the bedcovers. "I feel let down and, oh, empty and what's it all about? It's an awful feeling not to have anything to do now that the concert is over."

"I'm glad it's over," Vida said passionately, "I have so many things waiting to be done."

"Flowahs an' tel'grams still cornin'," Cleo said, a box and a yellow envelope in her hand. "Mis' Mae say to tell you she gone to get you an' her some stockings."

"Well, put the flowers in water," Lucy said, reading the card from Nino, then indifferently opening the telegram. "Oh," she said in dismay to Vida, "it's from your mother—Aunt Mabel broke her hip."

The two girls left Grand Central Station after seeing Mae off and walked back in the muggy spring afternoon to Lucy's apartment, and made themselves coffee.

"I hope Mother remembers to take those sleeping pills I gave her so she doesn't lie awake worrying. Poor Aunt Mabel! She certainly never had any fun, working all the time as though fun's a sin, and now she may be stuck in a wheel chair if she doesn't die. Sometimes I wonder whether working so hard is worth it. Even to be an artist. When you're dead, you're sure dead, so who cares what people think after you're gone? While I'm alive I want to live."

"I don't want to die either," Vida suddenly moaned and threw herself to the floor with an ugly gurgle of anguish.

"What's the matter with you?" Lucy screamed, frightened.

"I'm pregnant and I'm afraid."

Lucy gave her a sedative and remembered a bottle of pre-Prohibition gin. "We both need a drink," she said, attempting cheeriness and, as they sipped, stared at Vida incredulously. "Well, for 398