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Updated: May 22, 2025
"You could consider yourself darn lucky, Clarice Delehanty, if one half as good ever " "Ask the girls if I don't always say old St. Louis is all to the good. Three or four years ago, right after his wife died, I said to Ada, I said " A head showed suddenly through the lining side of the mauve portieres, blue-eyed, blue-shaved, and with a triple ripple of black hair trained backward.
Suddenly his attitude grew tense; he had the appearance of a man gazing at an enthralling but dangerous spectacle, such for example as a wall that might topple over, crushing anything human within its sweep. The object of this scrutiny had a pale countenance with a carefully clipped mustache, baggy eyes and a blue-shaved heavy jaw.
Then suddenly, because he could escape no other way, rushed straight back for his dressing-room, bursting in upon a flood of family already there: Isadore Kantor, blue-shaved, aquiline, and already graying at the temples; his five-year-old son, Leon; a soft little pouter-pigeon of a wife, too, enormous of bust, in glittering ear-drops and a wrist watch of diamonds half buried in chubby wrist; Miss Esther Kantor, pink and pretty; Rudolph; Boris, not yet done with growing-pains.
His fleshy, blue-shaved face took on the tenseness of concentrated effort, and he cut deep into the oozing beef, the red juice running out in quick streams. "Ah-h-h-h-h!" "No, no, you keep that, Max; it's your rare piece." "Gravy?" "Yes, dearie." The small dog shook himself and rose from sleep and the depths of a pillow, nosing at her bare elbow.
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