Free Black Rainbow by KATHY Page B

words.
    After a moment Jane said, "You had better come in. I owe you an apology for making a scene."
    It was typical of Jane that she should apologize, instead of trying to justify her behavior. Megan followed her into the room and closed the door.
    "You owe me nothing of the sort. And I'm sure the other ladies understand—"
    "No, they don't. They think me ill-mannered and odd. I don't give a curse what they think anyway. They are empty-headed fashion plates, and their husbands are just as stupid. Where did Edmund find such friends? What does he see in them?"
    Megan was spared the necessity of replying. Jane went on, with growing passion, "I could put up with them. But George Belts! How could Edmund do it? I don't wonder he refused to tell me the names of his guests."
    "He thought you would refuse to receive Mr. Belts?" Megan asked.
    Jane began pacing up and down the room, her hands clasped behind her, as was her habit when agitated or deep in thought. "He knows how I feel about Belts. I was quite explicit. I suppose he took it for granted that I would behave like a lady when I found myself faced with a fait accompli. Well, he found out, didn't he?"
    "Perhaps Mr. Mandeville does not fully comprehend how distasteful the admiration of such a man can be to a woman of sensibility. If you explained—"
    "You aren't a fool, Megan; please don't talk like one. You know why I am upset."
    "I know, but I don't really understand," Megan admitted. "Of course you are proud of your management of the mill; you have every right to be. But I should think it would be a relief to you to give up the responsibilities you have shouldered for so long. After you marry, which you surely will do one day—"
    "I will confine my activities to breeding and embroidery, as a woman should?"
    A trifle shocked, Megan nodded. Jane's rapid pace slowed. She looked thoughtful.
    "Do you know, I never thought of that eventuality. Strange, isn't it, when marriage is the sole ambition of most proper young ladies?
    "But that isn't the point. Selling the mill would be bad enough; it is a family concern, and my father hoped it would remain so. But selling to a man like Belts! You heard him— can't you see what would happen to the place if he owned it?"
    "He does not sound like the most ethical of employers," Megan said cautiously.
    "He doesn't know the meaning of the word. Megan, there is not a worker in our mill that I don't know by name. I played with many of them when we were children. I have been in their homes. Handing them over to the tender mercies of George Belts would be like selling my children to Arab slavers."
    Privately Megan thought Jane was dramatizing the situation just a little. She knew about the abuses Jane feared; they were shocking, certainly, but surely by now the worst had been corrected. And people must work for a living. No one knew better than she that life was hard, except for a favored few.
    Realizing that her pragmatic views would not be well received, she contented herself with gazing sympathetically at Jane and shaking her head in silent commiseration.
    Jane walked more slowly. The exercise seemed to calm her; presently she said in a less passionate voice, "Thank you for listening to me rave, Megan. It has done me good and I am grateful—all the more so because you really don't understand why I feel the way I do. You had better go to bed now. Find a nice, calming book and read yourself to sleep."
    Obediently Megan went to the door. Her hand was on the knob when Jane said suddenly, "It is her fault. Curse the woman! He would never have had the idea of selling if she had not put it into his mind."
    Megan did not turn, or reply. Jane was not speaking to her; she was thinking aloud, scarcely aware that there was another person present.
    "I know their sort," Jane muttered. "She and her profligate brother—having squandered their fortune, they have fixed on Edmund to supply them with another. She would not be content with a steady, respectable