So she quietly told her that she was
afraid, after all, the party wouldn't suit her. And then she turned the
pony's head, and drove her straight home again!"
"Oh!" cried Doris, her cheeks red, her eyes aflame.
"Brutal, wasn't it?" said the other. "All the same, there are fine
things in Rachel. And in one point she's the most vulnerable of women!"
"Her son?" Doris ventured.
Miss Field shrugged her shoulders.
"He doesn't drink--he doesn't gamble--he doesn't spend money--he doesn't
run away with other people's wives. He's just nothing!--just incurably
empty and idle. He comes here very little. His mother terrifies him. And
since he was twenty-one he has a little money of his own. He hangs about
in studios and theatres. His mother doesn't know any of his friends.
What she suffers--poor Rachel! She'd have given everything in the world
for a brilliant son. But you can't wonder. She's like some strong plant
that takes all the nourishment out of the ground, so that the plants
near it starve. She can't help it.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52