Once Alma, as a rule supersensitive to her mother's slightest unrest,
floated up for the moment out of her young sleep, but she was very
drowsy and very tired and dream-tides were almost carrying her back, as
she said:
"Mama, are you all right?"
Simulating sleep, Mrs. Samstag lay tense until her daughter's breathing
resumed its light cadence.
Then at four o'clock, the kind of nervousness that Mrs. Samstag had
learned to fear, began to roll over her in waves, locking her throat and
curling her toes and her fingers, and her tongue up dry against the roof
of her mouth.
She must concentrate now--must steer her mind away from the craving!
Now then: West End Avenue. Louis liked the apartments there. Luxurious.
Quiet. Residential. Circassian walnut or mahogany dining room? Alma
should decide. A baby-grand piano. Later to be Alma's engagement gift
from, "Mama and--Papa." No, "Mama and Louis." Better so.
How her neck and her shoulder-blade, and now her elbow, were flaming
with the pain! She cried a little, far back in her throat with the small
hissing noise of a steam-radiator, and tried a poor futile scheme for
easing her head in the crotch of her elbow.
Now then: She must knit Louis some neckties. The silk-sweater-stitch
would do. Married in a traveling-suit.
Pages:
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425