“What is it now?” Golda asked. “What is the trouble? There is always something new, and I think you will never be a man. For a man expects trouble and does not make himself ill over it.”
“I have quarrelled with Logan,” said Mendel, dropping with relief into Yiddish as a barrier against the outer world, in which terrible things were always happening.
“A good job too!” said Golda; “a good job too! He was no good to you. He only made you do the work that nobody likes. Now you can go back to the old way, and Mr. Froitzheim and Mr. Birnbaum will be pleased with you again. . . . You had better give up your friends. You are like a woman, the way you must always be in love with your friends. . . . But it is no good. Men will always fall in love, and then it is over with friendship. . . . Friends are only for moments. They come and disappear and come again. It is foolish to think you can keep them. . . . Is your head bad?”
“Pretty bad.”
“You have not been drinking again?”
“No. I’ve been leading a decent life. I expect it doesn’t suit me.”
“Rubbish. . . . Rosa says the Christian girl has been to see you.”
He leaped to his feet.
“Didn’t she stay? Didn’t you make her stay? What did she say? How did she look? Did she leave no message?”