Bertha Loeb approached with the forward peer of the nearsighted.
Time and maternity had had their whacks at her figure, her stoutness
enhanced by a bothersome shelf of bust, but her face--the same virile
profile of her son's and with the graying hair parted tightly from
it--guiltless of lines, except now, regarding her daughter-in-law, a
horizontal crease came into her brow.
"You want to go sit a while by grandma, then?"
"No. Gee! can't--can't a girl just sit up in her room quiet? I'm all
right."
"I didn't say, Sadie, you wasn't all right. Only a young girl with
everything to be thankful for don't need to sit up in her room like it
was a funeral, with her mother and sister and grandma in the
same house."
On the mahogany arms of her chair Mrs. Herman Loeb's small hand closed
in a tight fist over her damp wad of handkerchief,
"I--I--"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Sadie, you been crying again."
"What if I have?"
"A fine answer from a girl to her mother."
"I--you--you drive me to it--your questions--"
"I shouldn't have the interest of my own son's wife at heart!"
"Can't a girl get--get blue?"
"Blue?"
"Yes, blue."
Mrs. Bertha Loeb reached out her hand with its wide marriage band
slightly indented in flesh; the back of that hand was speckled with
large, lightish freckles and trembled slightly.
Pages:
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353