Quicksand
knew that she would stay. “It‘s an elusive something,” he went on. “Perhaps I can best explain it by the use of that trite phrase, ‘You‘re a lady.‘ You have dignity and breeding.”
At these words turmoil rose again in Helga Crane. The intricate pattern of the rug which she had been studying escaped her. The shamed feeling which had been her penance evaporated. Only a lacerated pride remained. She took firm hold of the chair arms to still the trembling of her fingers.
“If you‘re speaking of family, Dr. Anderson, why, I haven't any. I was born in a Chicago slum.”
The man chose his words, carefully he thought. “That doesn‘t at all matter, Miss Crane. Financial, economic circumstances can‘t destroy tendencies inherited from good stock. You yourself prove that!”
Concerned with her own angry thoughts, which scurried here and there like trapped rats, Helga missed the import of his words.
46
