“Yes, I’ve been worrying quite a bit about that,” Margaret answered. “Do you know that he’s, well—”
“Yes, I know that he’s a negro,” Blanche interrupted. “It’s true, Eric has just a little negro blood in him, but you must admit, dear, that he’s the whitest-looking one you ever saw.”
“Of course, he’d have fooled me, too, when I first met him, if Max hadn’t told me about it,” Margaret said. “I like him, too. He’s certainly not fatiguing to look at, and he has a lovely sense of humor, but still, can you quite forget about his negro blood when ... oh, when you’re petting together, I mean.”
“Can I forget it?—why, I go mad, stark mad, ’f he just puts his hand over mine,” Blanche cried. “I’ve never fallen so hard for any man in all my life—I mean it, Mart. I arranged not to meet him for two weeks—just to see ’f I wouldn’t cool down about him, you know—but it’s only convinced me all the more. I’ll never be able to get along without him ... never.”
“Well, after all, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have a little affair with him, if you’re careful about it,” Margaret replied.
“But it’s much deeper than that,” Blanche said slowly. “We’re both perm’nently in love with each other, we really are. It’s a big, precious thing, and not just ... well ... not just wanting to have a few parties, you know. I’m going to live with him for years and years, and maybe marry him right now. It’s the first time I’ve ever loved any one.”
“But, Blanche, you’re going to let yourself in for an endless nightmare, if that’s the case,” Margaret replied, sorrowfully. “Your people will simply raise the roof off, if they’re anything like you say they are. And then, all the other things—children, and living among his negro friends, and getting snubbed right and left.... Are you really sure you love him enough for all that? Are you, really?”
“Yes, I am sure,” Blanche said, in a slow, sick-at-heart, stubborn voice. “I’ve thought of everything, don’t worry about that, and it hasn’t given me much rest, either. Oh, how I hate this blind, mean world of ours!”
“Yes, I know, but hating it never solves anything,” Margaret answered, dully.
“Well, I’m going to solve it by running off with him,” Blanche continued. “We’ll go far away, to Paris or London—some place where nobody’ll know that Eric’s a negro, and we’ll stay there for the rest of our lives, that’s all. I don’t care ’f we both have to wash dishes for a living, I don’t. It’s all right to fight back when you’ve got a chance, but not when everything’s against you.”