U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [343]
DARLING:
I'm working at a desk in this miserable dump that's nothing but a col ection of old cats that make me tired. Darling, I love you so much. We must see each other soon. I wonder what Dad and Buster would say if I
-379-brought a goodlooking husband home from overseas. They'd be hopping mad at first but I reckon they'd get over it. Gol darn it, I don't want to work at a desk, I want to travel around Europe and see the sights. The only thing I like here is a little bunch of cyclamens on my desk. Do you remember the cute little pink cyclamens?
I've got a bad cold and I'm lonely as the Dickens. This Methodist Board of Temperance and Public Morals are the meanest people I've ever seen. Ever been homesick, Dick? I don't believe you ever have. Do get yourself sent right back to Rome. I wish I hadn't been such a prissy sil y little girl up there where the cyclamens bloomed. It's hard to be a woman, Dick. Do anything you like but don't forget me. I love you so. ANNE ELIZABETH
When Dick got back to his hotel room with the two
letters in the inside pocket of his tunic he threw himself down on the bed and lay a long time staring at the ceil-ing. A little before midnight Henry knocked on the door. He was just in from Brussels. "Why, what's the matter, Dick, you look al grey . . . are you sick or something?" Dick got to his feet and washed his face at the wash-basin. "Nothing the matter," he spluttered through the water. "I'm fed up with this man's army, I guess."
"You look like you'd been crying."
"Crying over spilt milk," said Dick, and cleared his throat with a little laugh.
"Say, Dick, I'm in trouble, you've got to help me out. . . . You remember that girl Olga, the one who threw the teapot at me?" Dick nodded. "Wel , she says she's going to have a baby and that I'm the proud
parent. . . . It's ridiculous."
"Wel , things like that happen," said Dick sourly.
"No, but Christ, man, I don't want to marry the bitch
. . . or support the offspring . . . it's too sil y. Even if
-380-she is going to have a baby it's probably not mine . . . She says she'l write to General Pershing. Some of those poor devils of enlisted men they sent up for twenty years for rape . . . it's the same story."
"They shot a couple. . . . Thank God I wasn't on that courtmartial."
"But think of how it ud upset mother. . . . Look here, you can parleyvoo better'n I can . . . I want you to come and talk to her."
"Al right . . . but I'm dead tired and feel lousy . . ." Dick put on his tunic. "Say, Henry, how are you off for jack? The franc's dropping al the time. We might be able to give her a little money, and we'l be going home soon, we'l be too far away for blackmail." Henry looked low. "It's a hel of a thing to have to admit to your kid brother," he said, "but I played poker the other night and. got cleaned out . . . I'm S.O.L. al down the line." They went around to the place on Montmartre where
Olga was hatcheck girl. There was nobody there yet, so she was able to come out and have a drink with them at the bar. Dick rather liked her. She was a bleached blonde with a smal , hard, impudent face and big brown eyes. Dick talked her around, saying that his brother couldn't marry a foreigner on account of la famil e and not having a situation and that he would soon be out of the army and back at a drafting desk . . . did she know how little a draftsman in an architect's office was paid en Amerique?
Nothing at al , and with la vie chère and la chute du franc and le dol ar would go next maybe and la revolution mondiale would be coming on, and the best thing she could do was to be a good little girl and not have the baby. She began to cry . . . she so wanted to get married and have children and as for an avortment . . . mais non, puis non. She stamped her foot and went back to her hat-check booth. Dick fol owed her and consoled her and pat-ted her cheek and said qu'e voulez vous it was la vie and
-381-wouldn't she consider a present of five hundred francs?
She shook her