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Page 21 text:
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The anger faded out of Elizabeth’s eyes. Her goodbye was amiable if rather absent. As the door closed behind Roger, she walked back to the desk, murmuring . . . “Mary,” he said, “you look very beautiful tonight.” “Only sad, John,” answered Mary, “the Eve in me has the upper hand tonight. I’m thinking of all the children I should have had and didn’t have.” III. Ruth lay awake, vaguely aware of the lean strength of her husband’s body. She envied him his deep sleep, and tried vainly to school herself into relaxation. Finally she sat up hugging her knees. She looked down at Gregor’s sharp cheekbones and at the angular contours of his large, thin, loose-limbed body. Shadows etched gro¬ tesque hollows in his cheeks, and drew her eyes to the black jagged forms of the leafless oak-trees outside. Strange how she could not leave this drab prairie city behind her! She had fled to the other end of the world and here she was again. Familiar landscape churned up the old struggle. A childhood passed just on the edge of poverty. Four hard-earned years in university. Two years of being kicked about from one worthless job to another. Visions crumbling. Various impulses to flight; a nunnery, the backwoods. Both these solutions meant isolation however, and a lately crumbled vision of self-worth and sanity made Ruth a little uncertain of her ability to work out her salvation alone. Educate a woman to think, press her on all sides with cheap jobs, poor wages, senseless survivals from the China Doll Age, and expect her to come out of it as placid as a deep pool. Your expectations will be disappointed. You get a half- fledged, bewildered creature. Such was the Ruth who fled in the only direction in which she saw any hope. Once safely sheltered on a collective farm, she pressed her forehead into the flanks of the cows after the best Hardy fashion and became a successful and respected milkmaid. Contentment increased in an atmosphere which took successful female labors for granted. The hope, remote though it had been, had proven true. Ruth had known that for centuries the women of Eastern Europe had done men’s work in the fields. Therefore, in this new time of emancipation, they should not be in the position of absurdly pampered children, possessed of one more bauble which they could not use for want of experience and oppor¬ tunity. In this atmosphere, Ruth rose from milkmaid to agronom without exciting wonder. She became the real modem woman; a being capable of creation only as a result of work done, and cor¬ responding not at all to the mythical modern woman of the western [19]
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Page 22 text:
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world created by charity and crammed with erudition. As agronoms, she and her husband were sent back to Manitoba, where weed prob¬ lems similar to that on their collective farm had been studied for several years. As she sat up in the night, she thought over the privi¬ leges she had lost. The right to have her bundles carried. The right to be escorted home after dark. And the gain? The right not to be pampered. The right to work as she pleased without exciting wonder. REVERY (Translated from the French of Victor Hugo) By Margaret McCulloch O H leave me! ’Tis the hour when ’neath encircling mist Th’ horizon bows its heavy brows, temples smoke kiss’d; The hour when blushes red and sinks the giant star. The vasty yellowing wood alone gildeth the hill. It seems these days, as autumn lingereth still, That forest leaves with wind and rain now rusted are. Oh who will bring to birth, will sudden cause to gleam Yonder—while I alone by my window dream, And while at the end of the passage the shadow unfold— Some dazzling Moorish city radiant bright, Which, e’en as a full sheaf of arrows loos’d in flight, Will rend this curtain fog with spear-like spires of gold. O genii, send that city t’inspire and set aflame My songs dull-dyed like autumn skies with brown- hued stain! Oh may its magic beauty be reflected in my eye And may its long, soft crooning a muffled melody Deep scarfed in mist, and thousand towered, with palaces faery, Be etched in lacy pattern ’gainst the violet of the sky. 120]
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