She did not want to find Bud now. She shrank from
any thought of him. Only for him, she would still have her Lovin
Child. Illogically she blamed Bud for what had happened. He had
caused her one more great heartache, and she hoped never to see
him again or to hear his name spoken.
Dully she settled down in a cheap, semi-private boarding house
to wait. In a day or two she pulled herself together and went out
to look for work, because she must have money to live on. Go home
to her mother she would not. Nor did she write to her. There,
too, her great hurt had flung some of the blame. If her mother
had not interfered and found fault all the time with Bud, they
would be living together now--happy. It was her mother who
had really brought about their separation. Her mother would nag
at her now for going after Bud, would say that she deserved to
lose her baby as a punishment for letting go her pride and self-
respect. No, she certainly did not want to see her mother, or any
one else she had ever known. Bud least of all.
She found work without much trouble, for she was neat and
efficient looking, of the type that seems to belong in a well-
ordered office, behind a typewriter desk near a window where the
sun shines in.
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