Marjorie Morningstar Read Online Free PDF

at the start of the ride. The worst had happened,
     and here she was, back on the horse. Without realizing it she was sitting more naturally
     in the saddle, holding the reins better collected.
    “Well, now you’re an experienced horsewoman,” Sandy said as they rode beside the reservoir,
     trotting over a golden layer of tree pollen on the black path.
    Marjorie laughed. “It’ll take more than one fall, I’m afraid. At least I fulfilled
     my own expectation this morning. I made a fool of myself. I can hardly ride, you know.
     That’s the truth.”
    “Why did you come, Margie? You didn’t have to say yes just to be polite.”
    She looked him serenely in the eye, smiling. He grew red and stopped talking, and
     they trotted on in silence.
    Paced by Sandy’s horse, Prince Charming went along like a machine. Back at the stable
     Marjorie managed not to limp, though the ankle was bothering her more and more. She
     didn’t intend to be parted from Sandy Goldstone at this point because of a little
     pain.
    When the party came to the Tavern on the Green, Marjorie was very glad she had come
     along despite the throbbing ankle. How gay it was to sit down to white napery and
     silver on a sunlit stone terrace under the open sky, in a green park bordered by jagged
     skyscrapers! Marjorie had never done it before. A stiff brushing at the stable had
     cleaned all the dried mud from her habit. She didn’t mind the ripped elbows; she felt
     they gave her a raffish Long Island horsy-set touch. She had combed her hair and freshened
     her makeup. She thought she rather resembled an illustration in a fashion magazine.
     She was proud of the way she had muddled through the ride and the fall, and pleased
     at certain small attentions Sandy had been paying her.
    “Bacon and scrambled eggs for everybody, I guess?” Sandy said.
    “Leave the bacon off mine. Just eggs,” Marjorie said, after hesitating a moment.
    Vera raised one eyebrow at her. “What’s the matter, dear, are you religious?”
    “Just habit,” Marjorie muttered, embarrassed. She was convinced that the Jewish food
     prohibitions were mere primitive taboos, but her upbringing was stronger than logic.
     Once or twice she had tried to eat bacon and had failed; the red and yellow strips
     made her gorge rise.
    “Well, I guess you’ll go to heaven and we won’t,” Vera said. “I couldn’t live without
     my bacon in the morning.”
    Sandy yawned, “Let her alone. What do you know about it, anyway? Some people think
     that all the equipment you need to discuss religion is a mouth.”
    Marjorie blinked at this unexpected support.
    “Dear me,” Vera said to Marjorie with a grin, “have I stepped on your toes? I’m sorry,
     I’m sure.”
    “Live and let live,” Sandy said.
    Marjorie felt she had been successfully snubbed by the blonde. She resolved, as she
     had several times before, to practice eating bacon sometime by herself. Some of the
     fun went out of the brunch for her.
    The waitress was just beginning to serve the food when Marjorie’s mouth twisted in
     an involuntary grimace. A thrill of pain had shot up hotly from her ankle to her knee.
     “What’s the matter with you?” Sandy said.
    “Nothing, nothing.” Everybody looked at her. The waitress was passing Phil’s bacon
     and eggs under her nose. Marjorie couldn’t help it; she put her head on her arms on
     the table, feeling faint and very sick. “I’m sorry, it’s my ankle. It hurts like hell.
     I—I think I’d better go home—”
    There was a flurry of sympathy and suggestions. Sandy Goldstone cut it short by tossing
     his car keys on the table and picking Marjorie up easily in his arms. “She shouldn’t
     walk on it. I’ll carry her to a cab and get her to her house, Billy. If I’m not back
     in half an hour you drive the others home. I’ll phone you, Vera, about three o’clock.”
    “Well, all right. No later,” said the blonde.
    Marjorie submitted limply to being carried,