There was a curious pallor came over Miss Samstag's face, as if smeared there by a hand.
"Asked you what?"
"Alma, it don't mean I'm not true to your father as I was the day I buried him in that blizzard back there, but could you ask for a finer, steadier man than Louis Latz? It looks out of his face."
"Mamma, you—What—are you saying?"
"Alma?"
There lay a silence between them that took on the roar of a simoon and Miss Samstag jumped then from her mother's embrace, her little face stiff with the clench of her mouth.
"Mamma—you—No—no! Oh, mamma—oh—!"
A quick spout of hysteria seemed to half strangle Mrs. Samstag so that she slanted backward, holding her throat.
"I knew it. My own child against me. O God! Why was I born? My own child against me!"
"Mamma—you can't marry him. You can't marry—anybody."