“May I say ‘thank God,’ Madame? I speak reverently.”
Drewena laughed, and for a moment looked into Patsy’s faithful eyes.
“Arrange things quickly,” she repeated as the attendant left.
Again Drewena tiptoed past the sleeping, tired baby and entered the powder room, closing the panel behind her and ignoring the pounding on the door.
Carrie still cried, her tears dampening the golden pillows of the couch.
“Miriam left without asking me to dance,” she kept on sobbing.
Drewena picked her up bodily and making a cradle out of her own slender arms, held the unhappy girl. Singing a soft, melodic lullaby, she rocked Carrie, thinking, “It is time once more, for me to go. Ah, Martin!—indiscriminate man!—you see beauty only through your prostitution.... How I envy you!... How I ...” Drewena’s thick tears clung to her lashes and did not fall on Carrie who, now rocked asleep, held tightly to Drewena’s comforting breast.