away in a safe place...? We were bound to be caught in some store, had what happened not happened... For one day I came home to find my mother holding the box, open. The flush of my face gave me away, but I screamed... You have no right to go rummaging through my things. She slapped me on the mouth and said: Where did these come from...? I want the truth... the truth.

I told her that Grace said they make no fuss over these little things, then added in panic... But I will never do it again, Mother.

My mother's gaze was fixed far away as she muttered: Another thief... another thief. Then she looked at me and said sadly: You are wicked, Sandy... wicked in the full sense of the word. Perhaps it is not your fault, but — you are fourteen today, and you understand what I say. Your father died when you were two... he died a thief, in prison.

Her sorrowing voice went on: "His name was Dan Morris... tall, handsome, always smil-ing"... Her voice grew tender, then hardened again: "But he was not good... My mother objected, but I married him. He was arrested before you were born, because he had embezzled large sums which I believed he was earning for us honorably. I told him I would not wait for him... and he died in prison, of pneumonia."

Her whipping hand lay on mine as she finished: I was always afraid you would be wicked, because the evil is in your blood. And after [...]

your father was buried, I wished you had never been born.

I implored her: "Oh, Mother, what shall I do?"

And for the first time in her life I saw her arms encircle me as she said: "I will help you, Sandy, and we will fight this together."

She rose and wrapped up the stolen things, each one separately, addressed each to the store from which it had been stolen, and sent it by mail.

She seemed to have found relief as she said: "You are not to see Grace again..." And I did not see her, for my mother moved us to the city of York and entered me in its high school, while she found work for herself.

We lived closer to each other than before... She talked with me often and sometimes took me to the movies; once she even put some money into my hand,

saying: You may need it, Sandy. My face went red, for so it had been — take it, so that you will not steal.

We lived that way for two years, and my childhood past would have seemed a dream, had it not sometimes come back with its lure, and had I not sometimes been exposed to temptation — which I would overcome, feeling grown up, and then repeat within myself: "No — I will never steal."

The black shadow in my life was my father, and yet my mother did not mention him again until I turned sixteen... and turned to look at my first boy, my mirror having told me that I had become strikingly beautiful.

George was my first boy. He walked me home from school twice, then asked me to go with him to the movies, and I did. I did not tell my mother before going; instead I wrote her on a little slip of paper that I would be back, so there was no need to worry.

I came back, and she was waiting for me.

She seized me by the shoulders and shook me, asking: Were you with that boy? I said: "Yes, Mother, but nothing happened between us — nothing at all — I swear it to you on my honor."

Her eyes bored into mine and she whispered — a whisper more dreadful than screaming — she said: "On your honor? And what honor have you? You will not go about with this young man, nor any other; you will never marry anyone, lest you pass on the evil that is in you to your children... I will kill you before you do."

She was silent a moment, then whispered: Listen to me, Sandy — no boys, no marriage, no children. Do you understand? Promise me.

I was trembling with terror, picturing the dark corner in the dark room.

She said: "Promise me..."

And I promised — and only then did she turn gentle... I avoided George, and indeed all boys, until my schooling ended and I took a position in a certain company, and there I met Ross Helman.

He was twenty-three and I was eighteen — a girl who hurried home from work and rendered an account of every minute she had spent on the way.

He would whisper his sweet words in my ear whenever he found the chance, and our relations went no further than

those whispers of admiration for which my fellow workers envied me — for Ross was the wish of every one of them.

He invited me to a dance and I refused, telling him that my mother would never allow it. He thought a moment and said: I'll send Aggie to you — pretend you're going with her to the movies...

And so it was... I put on my prettiest clothes, and my mother said doubtfully: "All this for a movie?" I answered — and what other occasion is there? — and I deceived my mother, because I loved

Ross as I had never loved a creature in this world. For he loved me and gave me back my confidence in myself. He was to leave the next day, to be away for weeks on business for his company, so I could not refuse his request.

And we danced... He kept teaching me how to move my feet, for I had never danced before. I clung to his arm as one in a dream and pressed close to him as he whispered: "Baby, let's get out of here."

We went to his room. I was a bundle of feelings; every fiber of me longed to love and to be loved... All the loneliness of my life, and all its pains, melted in his arms. I could sooner have halted fate in its course than halted Ross.

He went away, and weeks passed. I fainted at the company, and the doctor told me I was with child. I did not know what to do, so I went and told my mother... I was so stunned by what had happened to me that I no longer feared her... I heard my voice saying: "Perhaps you don't understand what this means... to love some-one... You have always kept me in a prison."

She said, trying to master her-self: "So — it has happened... Sandy, God will requite you, because you did not listen to me — as I did not listen to my mother!"

I felt her breath on my face as she said: I know how this happens — how one longs for a man. But I will help you; I will find a doctor.

I cried out in horror: "No... I will not kill my child."

She said, as though she had not heard me: I have some money, and no one will know. I will take you away and keep you in a safe place, so that this will not happen again. We will hide, and no one will trouble us anymore.

I looked at my mother; her

eyes were like quicksilver in their sockets, and her every movement showed that she was... Oh my God — my mother had gone mad!

She left the room and kept its door locked on me all night long, and in the morning she brought me food, but I did not touch it. What was there to live for?... I would bear a child. And Ross did not answer me. And my mother was insane.

My mother went out in the afternoon and locked the door, saying in that same strange

voice: "I will find a doctor."

I would not have thought of going out even had she not locked the door — there was nowhere for me to go, and I no longer cared what became of me, whether I lived or died. Indeed, I may even have thought that I would die and my troubles would be over.

I heard the telephone ring beside me and did not move. The ringing kept insisting, so I took up the receiver — and there he was, speaking. He said: "Sandy — Aggie told me."

And I began crying out: Ross, there is a baby, and my mother has gone mad and has gone off to fetch the doctor, and the door is locked on me — please. Please...

He said quickly: "I'm coming" — and it was as if God Himself were coming to my rescue.

My mother returned, and I shouted at her: "He answers me — and he is coming!"

And she said, as if she had not heard: "I will help you... I won't let him marry you, so don't be afraid."

I cried: "But I want to marry him!"

She did not hear me that time either — but when the doorbell rang she opened it... I do not know what Ross had first intended, but when he saw my mother in that state he decided on the spot... He said: "I got you into this fix and I will get you out of it... I am the father of the child, and I am sure of it... and she is going to marry me, for I am no cad."

And my mother screamed, white foam on her lips, her eyes flashing like a raging beast's: "You will marry her only over my dead body... even if I have to tell you the truth—"

And I shouted at her: "No! No!..." But she did not hear me either... And I could not bear to hear her tell him that I was a thief... that my father had been a thief... Neither of them paid me any