The Noise of the World by Adriana Spadoni

It was a windy March afternoon when Anne, having secured the services of Mrs. Horton's oldest daughter to look after Rogie while she did some necessary shopping, came face to face with Merle, a Merle she scarcely knew.

"Going right straight by me," Merle began gayly, but at Anne's astonishment Merle quieted to sincerity. "I don't blame you. I scarcely know myself," she went on with a whimsical gesture that included her own person, from expensive hat and furs to dainty shoes. "I say, Anne, come and have tea. If I don't talk to some one, I'll bust."

But even after she had given the order for an elaborate tea at the exclusive shop where she was evidently known, Merle did not begin. She asked after Rogie and chattered of everything she could think of, until Anne said finally:

"I've only got a few minutes, Merle. Betty Horton can't stay with Rogie after four. She has to be home when the other children come from school."

And then, almost without a break or change of tone, Merle said:

"I've been thinking a lot about you, Anne. I came near 'phoning you twice. I've left Tom."

"Left Tom!"

Merle nodded. "Anne, do you know how Tom took it? Did Roger say anything? I haven't seen a soul of them for three weeks."

"No. I don't believe Roger knows it. He would have said something."

Merle shrugged. "Perhaps he doesn't. Perhaps Tom hasn't noticed it himself."

Her eyes misted, but she tossed her head with a cynical smile. "Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't want him to go lallygaggin about it to others -- even if he did any lallygaggin to himself."

Anne flushed. Merle and Tom together had seemed so ugly, but Merle like this was even worse.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Merle said in fierce whisper, "nothing and everything. Anne, I couldn't stand it another minute. I tried, for the sake of the past and everything, but I couldn't. " She was like a child begging forgiveness and Anne softened.

"Do you really want to talk about it, Merle?"

"Yes. It won't do any good, but I always did love to talk. I'm a good revolutionist, as far as that goes. I can babble and babble with the best of them till the cows come home. But where we part is that I do something in the end. Oh, I know they all think I'm Merle, the bobbed-haired fool, but I'm not such a fool as to sit tight and let Life run by, the one and only Life we'll ever get, and make no stab at anything in it. Anne, I'm so sick and tired of the Brotherhood of Man and the wicked capitalist and the abused proletariat, I could eat my hat. I can't live up on those holy heights and I don't want to. I always belonged down in the dust, gold dust if I could get it. And now -- I'm there."

Anne waited in silence, and after a moment Merle went on:

"Of course, Katya and the rest will just believe I was tempted -- if they think at all, but I wasn't. I worked it all out. I even made a kind of trial balance -- what would happen if I stayed, on one side of the sheet -- what would happen if I went, on the other. And I went. I'm going to keep that paper and some day I'm going to compare the results. Anyhow, I'm gone; Merle, the bobbed-haired fool, is no more. Behold Mrs. Benjamin Wilson, at least on hotel registers, and in private life -- if I choose."

Anne did not move. She did not even turn her eyes from the angry violet eyes opposite.

"I'll do a little 'crushing under the heel of capitalism' myself, before my heel gets too old and shriveled and ugly to be hired for the job. " The bitterness of Merle's voice cut.