These women could not be bad, else the hotel would not have permitted them to enter! Still, the scene presented a riddle: to give immunity to the black women who went about all but naked and to damn the white for exposing their shoulders! She had eaten but little; all her hunger had been in her eyes—and in her heart. “Oh. She thought me— filthy. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes. She was powerless to move from her chair. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. God, we suck. To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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