"All right. Begin right here in True Gold, or Pretty Crystal's Love. This is the place: 'With a terrible scream, Crystal sprang toward the fire escape, carrying her mother and her little sister in her arms.'"
Two Sighs
For nearly two hours, Roger read, in a deep, mellow voice, of the adventures of poor, persecuted Crystal, who was only sixteen, and engaged to a floor-walker in 'one of the great city's finest emporiums of trade.' He and his mother both sighed when he came to the end of the installment, but for vastly different reasons.
"Ain't it lovely, Roger?"
"It's what you might call 'different,'" he temporised, with a smile.
"Just think of that poor little thing havin' her house set afire by a rival suitor just after she had paid off the mortgage by savin' out of her week's wages! Do you suppose he will ever win her?"
"I shouldn't think it likely."
"No, you wouldn't, but the endin' of those stories is always what you wouldn't expect. It's what makes 'em so interestin' and, as you say, 'different.'"
Roger did not answer. He merely yawned and tapped impatiently on the table with his fingers.