"There, honey. Go to sleep now—like a king."
He fingered it, finally sitting up to count, leaning forward to the ring of lamplight.
"Six hundred bucks! Six hundred! Wow—oh, wow! If Sid could only see me now!"
"He can, honey—he can. Go to sleep. 'Sh-h-h-h!'"
"Slide 'em under—slide 'em under—Rockefeller."
She lifted his head, placing the small wad beneath. He turned over, cupping his hand in his cheek, breathing outward deeply, very deeply.
"Jas!"
"Huh?"
"Ain't you all right? You're breathing so hard. Quit breathing so hard. It scares me. Quit making those funny noises. Honey—for God's sake—quit!"
Jastrow the Granite Jaw did quit, so suddenly, so completely, his face turned outward toward the purpling meadows, and his mouth slightly open, that a mirror held finally and frantically against it did not so much as cloud.