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Updated: June 21, 2025
How do you think a girl feels to have gramaw keep hanging onto that old black wig of hers and not letting me take the crayons or wreaths down off the wall. In Lester's crowd, they don't know nothing about Revolutionary stuff and and persecutions. Amy's grandmother don't even talk with an accent, and Lester says his grandmother came from Alsace-Lorraine. That's French.
She dropped down into the upholstered chair beside the base-burner, the pink and moisture of exertion out in her face, took to fanning herself with the end of a face-towel flung across her arm. "Poor gramaw!" she said. "Poor gramaw!" Miss Coblenz sat down on the edge of a slim, home-gilded chair, and took to gathering the blue-silk dress into little plaits at her knee.
If you think gramaw, with her life all lived, comes first before me, with all my life to live all right!" "Your poor old " "It's always been gramaw first in this house, anyway. I couldn't even have company since I'm grown up because the way she's always allowed around.
"Selene, Selene, ain't it coming to gramaw, after all her years' hard work helping us that she should be entitled to go back with her wreaths for the graves? Ain't she entitled to die with that off her poor old mind? You bad, ungrateful girl, you, it's coming to a poor old woman that's suffered as terrible as gramaw that I should find a way to take her back." "Take her back. Where to jail?
If I could only get her back where she could see for herself the graves is all she needs. All old people think of the grave. It's eating her eating her mind. Mark Haas is going to fix it for me after the war maybe before if he can. That's the only way poor gramaw can live or die happy, Selene.
How do you think a girl feels to have gramaw keep hanging onto that old black wig of hers and not letting me take the crayons or wreaths down off the wall? In Lester's crowd they don't know nothing about revolutionary stuff and persecutions. Amy's grandmother don't even talk with an accent, and Lester says his grandmother came from Alsace-Lorraine. That's French.
Her father peering behind the dresser. "Where's Lilly?" "Here I am!" Herself hugging up her knees in their stout ribbed stockings, her round gaze on the red-glass globe with the warts blown into it. There it was, that same glass globe around the puny light; and the hatrack the one with the seat that opened for rubbers and school bags. "Gramaw, come out. Here is some one."
Nobody can say I ain't good to gramaw; Lester say it's beautiful the way I am with her, remembering always to bring the newspapers and all, but just the same I know when right's right and wrong's wrong. If my life ain't more important than gramaw's, with hers all lived, all right. Go ahead!"
Goldmark twisted high in his collar, cupping her small bare elbow in his hand. "That's what I say, lovey; let's break. Come, Mother Coblenz, let's step down on high society's corns." "Lester!" "You and Selene go down with the crowd, Lester. I want to take gramaw to rest for a while before we go home. The manager says we can have room fifty-six by the elevator for her to rest in."
Keebil and Snow Horton ever see any of them, Harry?" "No; you see it is nearly two years since " "I have a little daughter almost five years old!" "Gramaw followed up in the papers when you were married. Flora Kemble and Roy, they're both married, too." "Harry, didn't you ever hear anything about well, about my marriage?" "Yes, there was something about it. I forget. You live in New York?"
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