I held out my
hand, unwontedly white, and he took it flabbily, instead of briskly and
warmly as he usually did.
"'Mother,' he said, 'I want you to meet Miss Starr.'
"She wasn't at all the kind of millionaire's son's mother we have read
about. She had no lorgnette, and she did not look me over
superciliously. But she had turned my way as though confident of being
pleased, and her soft eyes clouded a little, though she smiled sweetly.
Her hair was silver white and curled over her forehead and around her
ears. She had dimples, and she stuck her chin up like a girl when she
laughed. She wore the softest, sweetest kind of a wistaria colored
silk. I was charmed with her. It could not have been mutual.
"She held out her hand, smiling so gently, still with the cloud in her
eyes, and we all sat down. She did not look me over, though she must
have yearned to do so. But Andy looked me over thoroughly,
questioningly, from the rhinestone pin at the top of the swaying hair,
to the tips of my Nile green shoes. I tried to talk, but my hair
wabbled so, and little invisible hair pins kept visibleing themselves
and sliding into my lap and down my neck, and my lips felt so moist and
sticky, and my skin didn't fit like skin, and--still I was determined
to live up to my part, and I talked on and on, and--then, quite
suddenly, I happened to glance into a mirror beside me.
Pages:
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140