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Updated: June 9, 2025
Not for a moment did Klara Goldstein doubt that the subsequent scene was an act of vengeance against herself on Elsa's part. She judged other women by her own standard, discounted other women's emotions, thoughts, feelings, by her own.
Then Annie Petowski or Jennie Goldstein or Maggie McNamara would watch the Nurse with open hostility and defiance, and her rustling exit from the ward would be followed by swift cessation of cries, and, close to Annie or Jennie or Maggie's heart, there would be small ecstatic gurglings and peace. In her small domain the Nurse was queen.
He introduced me to the cantor a pug-nosed man with a pale face and a skimpy little beard of a brownish hue "Our new cantor, the celebrated Jacob Goldstein!" he said. "And this is Mr. David Levinsky, my intended son-in-law. An Antomir man. Was a fine scholar over there and still remembers a lot of Talmud."
"Ought to land 'Sol Haytosser' for me, don't you think? The little lady never once tumbled." "I didn't hear your conversation," said Goldstein, "but your make-up and acting was O. K. Here's to your success. You'd better call on Miss Carrington early to-morrow and strike her for the part. I don't see how she can keep from being satisfied with your exhibition of ability."
I am sure she has no cause to be ashamed of anything, or of being jealous of anyone." "But I tell you that she is jealous of Klara Goldstein!" he maintained. "What nonsense!" protested the mother, while the blush quickly fled from the young girl's cheeks, leaving them clear and bloodless.
Then, as a stenographer came hurrying from the inner room, he stopped the girl and said: "Please take my card to Mr. Goldstein." "Oh, he won't see anybody now, for he's busy talking with one of our producers. You'll have to call again," she said flippantly. But even as she spoke she glanced at the card, started and turned red.
Remember, too, that A. Jones, by his interference, has caused a direct loss to the company, which Goldstein will have to explain, as best he may, in his weekly report to the New York office. A more astonishing state of affairs could not be imagined, Aunt Jane!" "The puzzle will solve itself presently," said the lady. "Abnormal conditions seldom last long."
"Answer!" he again commanded, as the Jew with trembling lips seemed too frightened to speak. "Yes, your Honour," stammered the poor wretch. "You remember, then, the one you and I made together in Calais, when you undertook to overtake Reuben Goldstein, his nag and my friend the tall stranger? Eh?" "B . . . b . . . but . . . your Honour . . ." "There is no 'but. I said, do you remember?"
Our only claim is to be a wall across Christendom against the Jew pedlars and pawnbrokers, against the Goldsteins and the " The Duke of Aylesbury swung round with his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I say," he said, "you've been readin' Lloyd George. Nobody but dirty Radicals can say a word against Goldstein."
Here the accused woman's solicitor rose. "Where did you obtain the hair in the packet marked B?" he demanded. "I took it from a bag of combings that hung on the wall of Miriam Goldstein's bedroom," answered the detective. "I object to this," said the solicitor. "There is no evidence that the hair from that bag was the hair of Miriam Goldstein at all." Thorndyke chuckled softly.
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