“What did he say?”
“He said he’d fix it up for me to see the big boss Monday.... Oh but Morris it’s not the sort of thing I want to do, it’s so vulgar and howid.... I want to do such beautiful things. I feel I’ve got it in me, something without a name fluttering inside, a bird of beautiful plumage in a howid iron cage.”
“That’s the trouble with you, you’ll never make good, you’re too upstage.” She looked up at him with streaming eyes that glistened in the white powdery light of an arclamp.
“Oh don’t cry for God’s sake. I didnt mean anythin.”
“I’m not upstage with you Morris, am I?” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“You are kinda, that’s what makes me sore. I like my little girl to pet me an love me up a little. Hell Cassie life aint all beer an sourkraut.” As they walked tightly pressed one to another they felt rock under their feet. They were on a little hill of granite outcrop with shrubbery all round. The lights from the buildings that hemmed in the end of the
Park shone in their faces. They stood apart holding each other’s hands.
“Take that redhaired girl up at 105th Street.... I bet she wouldnt be upstage when she was alone with a feller.”
“She’s a dweadful woman, she dont care what kind of a wep she has.... Oh I think you’re howid.” She began to cry again.
He pulled her to him roughly, pressed her to him hard with his spread hands on her back. She felt her legs tremble and go weak. She was falling through colored shafts of faintness. His mouth wouldnt let her catch her breath.