"Mama, mama, you're killing me." She fell back against her parent's shoulder, her face frankly distorted.
A second, staring there into space, Mrs. Kaufman sat with her arm still entwining the slender but lax form. "Ruby, is—is it something you ain't telling mama?"
"Oh, mommy, mommy!"
"Is there?"
"I—I don't know."
"Ruby, should you be afraid to talk to mama, who don't want nothing but her child's happiness?"
"You know, mommy. You know!"
"Know what, baby?"
"I—er—"
"Is there somebody else you got on your mind, baby?"