Lillian sat on the edge of the porch and put her hand on May’s knee and when she felt the trembling of the younger woman’s body a sharp mother feeling awakened within her. “I say, kid,” she began again, “a girl gets notions into her head. I’ve had them myself. A girl thinks she’ll find a man that’s all right. She kinda dreams of a man that doesn’t exist. She wants to be good and at the same time she wants to be something else. I guess I know how you felt but, believe me, kid, it’s bunk. Take it from me, kid, I know what I’m talking about. I been with men enough. I ought to know something.” Intent now on giving advice and having for the first time definitely accepted her sister as a comrade Lillian did not realize that what she now had to say would hurt May more than her anger. “I’ve often wondered about mother,” she said reminiscently. “She was always so glum and silent. When Kate and I went on the turf she never had nothing to say and even when I was a kid and began running around with men evenings, she kept still. I remember the first time I went over to Fremont with a man and stayed out all night. I was ashamed to come home. ‘I’ll catch hell,’ I thought but she never said nothing at all and it was the same way with Kate. She never said nothing to her. I guess Kate and I thought she was like the rest of the family—she was banking on you.” “To Ballyhack with Dad and the boys,” Lillian added sharply. “They’re men and don’t care about anything but getting filled up with booze and when they’re tired sleeping like dogs. They’re like all the other men only not so much stuck on themselves.” Lillian became angry again. “I was pretty proud of you, May, and now I don’t know what to think,” she said. “I’ve bragged about you a thousand times and I suppose Kate has. It makes me sore to think of it, you an Edgley and being as smart as you are, to fall for a cheap one like that Jerome Hadley. I bet he didn’t even give you any money or promise to marry you either.” May arose from her chair, her whole body trembling as with a chill, and Lillian arose and stood beside her. The older woman got down to the kernel of what she wanted to say. “You ain’t that way are you, sis—you ain’t going to have a kid?” she asked. May stood by the door, leaning against the door jamb and the rain that had been threatening began to fall. “No, Lillian,” she said. Like a child begging for mercy she held out her hand. Her face was white and in a flash of lightning Lillian could see it plainly. It seemed to leap out of the darkness toward her. “Don’t talk about it any more, Lillian, please don’t. I won’t ever do it again,” she pleaded.