She had a way, too,
he reflected, of always putting things in their place. As now she came in
and kissed him and sank back on his leather lounge with a tranquil breath
of relief, she seemed to be dropping school out of her life.
Roger picked up his paper and continued his reading. Presently they would
have a talk, but first he knew that she wanted to lie quite still for a
little while. Vaguely he pictured her work that night, her class-room
packed to bursting with small Jews and Italians, and Deborah at the
blackboard with a long pointer in her hand. The fact that for the last two
years she had been the principal of her school had made little impression
upon him.
And meanwhile, as she lay back with eyes closed, her mind still taut from
the evening called up no simple class-room but far different places--a mass
meeting in Carnegie Hall where she had just been speaking, some schools
which she had visited out in Indiana, a block of tenements far downtown and
the private office of the mayor. For her school had long curious arms these
days.
"Was Bruce here too this evening?" she asked her father presently. Roger
finished what he was reading, then looked over to the lounge, which was in
a shadowy corner.
"Yes, he came in late." And he went on to tell her of Bruce's
"engineering." At once she was interested. Rising on one elbow she
questioned him good-humoredly, for Deborah was fond of Bruce.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29