windowward

Updated: June 14, 2025

Even in the dusk of the kitchen their bright color was reflected upon her face, which, but for the flowers, would have been a ghastly white. A quick catching of the breath, like a sob. Then, her chin sunk among the blossoms, she half-circled Johnnie, and slowly started windowward. "Git a move on!" Barber spoke low. At that, she turned, holding the roses toward him. "Oh, Mr. Barber!" she begged.

Eleanor Gates - The Rich Little Poor Boy