Mechanically she began to unpin the looped-back skirt. "When?"
"Now."
"But, Hosey! Pinky—this flat—until June—"
"Now! Unless you want to stay. Unless you like it here in this—this make-believe, double-barrelled, duplex do-funny of a studio thing. Let's go home, mother. Let's go home—and breathe."
In Wisconsin you are likely to find snow in April—snow or slush. The Brewsters found both. Yet on their way up from the station in 'Gene Buck's flivver taxi they beamed out at it as if it were a carpet of daisies.
At the corner of Elm and Jackson streets Hosey Brewster stuck his head out of the window. "Stop here a minute, will you, 'Gene?"
They stopped in front of Hengel's meat market, and Hosey went in. Mrs. Brewster leaned back without comment.
Inside the shop. "Well, I see you're back from the East," said Aug Hengel.
"Yep."
"We thought you'd given us the go-by, you stayed away so long."