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Cather, Willa Sibert, 1873-1947

"My Antonia"

I could make two trips to
the windmill to carry water, and heat it in the wash-boiler on the stove.
While the water was heating, I could bring in a washtub out of the cave,
and take my bath in the kitchen. Then I could put on a clean night-gown
and get into bed with two others, who likely hadn't had a bath unless I'd
given it to them. You can't tell me anything about family life. I've had
plenty to last me.'
`But it's not all like that,' I objected.
`Near enough. It's all being under somebody's thumb. What's on your mind,
Jim? Are you afraid I'll want you to marry me some day?'
Then I told her I was going away.
`What makes you want to go away, Jim? Haven't I been nice to you?'
`You've been just awfully good to me, Lena,' I blurted. `I don't think
about much else. I never shall think about much else while I'm with you.
I'll never settle down and grind if I stay here. You know that.'
I dropped down beside her and sat looking at the floor. I seemed to have
forgotten all my reasonable explanations.
Lena drew close to me, and the little hesitation in her voice that had hurt
me was not there when she spoke again.
`I oughtn't to have begun it, ought I?' she murmured. `I oughtn't to have
gone to see you that first time. But I did want to.


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