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Hurst, Fannie, 1889-1968

"Humoresque A Laugh on Life with a Tear Behind It"

Try to sleep!"
"I wanna dream I'm Rockefeller. If there's one thing I want to dream,
it's Rockefeller."
"Not now--not now--"
"Lemme go to sleep like a king."
"Yes, honey."
"Like a king," I said.
She slid her hand finally into one of the voluminous folds of her
dress, withdrawing and placing a rubber-bound roll into his hands.
"There, honey. Go to sleep now--like a king."
He fingered it, finally sitting up to count, leaning forward to the ring
of lamplight.
"Six hundred bucks! Six hundred! Wow--oh, wow! If Sid could only see me
now!"
"He can, honey--he can. Go to sleep. 'Sh-h-h-h!'"
"Slide 'em under--slide 'em under--Rockefeller."
She lifted his head, placing the small wad beneath. He turned over,
cupping his hand in his cheek, breathing outward deeply, very deeply.
"Jas!"
"Huh?"
"Ain't you all right? You're breathing so hard. Quit breathing so hard.
It scares me. Quit making those funny noises. Honey--for God's
sake--quit!"
Jastrow the Granite Jaw did quit, so suddenly, so completely, his face
turned outward toward the purpling meadows, and his mouth slightly
open, that a mirror held finally and frantically against it did not so
much as cloud.


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