THE OLD MAID
the moment, and too often leaving others to pay the score. “There’s something cheap about Clem,” Jim had once said in his heavy way. Delia Ralston roused herself and pressed her cousin closer. “Chatty, tell me,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing more.”
“I mean, about yourself . . . this thing . . . this. . .” Clem Spender’s voice was still in her ears. “You loved some one,” she breathed.
“Yes. That’s over—. Now it’s only the child. . . And I could love Joe—in another way.” Chatty Lovell straightened herself, wan and frowning.
“I need the money—I must have it for my baby. Or else they'll send it to an Institution.” She paused. “But that’s not all. I want to marry—to be a wife, like all of you. I should have loved Joe’s
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