Quicksand
didn‘t she know how? Was she incapable of it?
And then on a warm spring day came Anne‘s letter telling of her coming marriage to Anderson, who retained still his shadowy place in Helga Crane‘s memory. It added, somehow, to her discontent, and to her growing dissatisfaction with her peacock‘s life. This, too, annoyed her.
What, she asked herself, was there about that man which had the power always to upset her? She began to think back to her first encounter with him. Perhaps if she hadn‘t come away— She laughed. Derisively. “Yes, if I hadn‘t come away, I‘d be stuck in Harlem. Working every day of my life. Chattering about the race problem.”
Anne, it seemed, wanted her to come back for the wedding. This, Helga had no intention of doing. True, she had liked and admired Anne better than anyone she had ever known, but even for her she wouldn‘t cross the ocean.
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