Olga’s thoughts were in such an angry whirl that for a moment she dared not trust herself to speak. She shook out the suit and hung it up, then she went slowly across the room and sat down facing her sister.
“Sonia,” she began, “we can’t go on in this way—I cannot endure it. Now let us have a plain understanding. You came here of your own choice—not on my invitation. What are your plans? Do you mean to stay on here indefinitely?”
“Why, of course. Where else should I stay?”
“Then,” said Olga decidedly, “you must help pay our expenses. You are well and strong. Why should you expect me to support you?”
“Why? Because you have a trade and I have not, for one reason. And besides, there’s the baby—I can’t leave her to go out to work.” There was a note of triumph in Sonia’s voice.
“You could get work to do at home—sewing, embroidery, knitting—or something.”
“‘Or something!’” There was fretful impatience now in Sonia’s tone. “I hate sewing—any kind of sewing. You know I always did.”
“Then what will you do?”
Sonia sat looking down in sulky silence at the baby.
Olga went on, “If there is no work you can do at home, you must find something outside. You can go into a store as you did before you were married.”