Never."
"Say it again."
"Never."
"As if it hasn't been terrible enough that you should have to know. But
it's over, Alma. Your bad times with me are finished. I'm cured."
"But wait a little while, mama, just a year."
"No. No."
"A few months."
"Now. He wants it soon. The sooner the better at our age. Alma, mama's
cured! What happiness. Kiss me, darling. So help me God, to keep my
promises to you. Cured, Alma, cured."
And so in the end, with a smile on her lips that belied almost to
herself the little run of fear through her heart, Alma's last kiss to
her mother that night was the long one of felicitation.
And because love, even the talk of it, is so gamey on the lips of woman
to woman, they lay in bed that night heart-beat to heart-beat, the
electric pad under her pillow warm to the hurt of Mrs. Samstag's brow
and talked, these two, deep into the stillness of the hotel night.
"My little baby, who's helped me through such bad times, it's your turn
now, Alma, to be care-free, like other girls."
"I'll never leave you mama, even if--he shouldn't want me."
"He will, darling, and does! Those were his words. 'A room for Alma.'"
"I'll never leave you!"
"You will! Much as Louis and me want you with us every minute, we won't
stand in your way! That's another reason I'm so happy, Alma.
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