Marjorie Morningstar Read Online Free PDF Page B

aware of little besides the stabbing pain.
     She did notice that Sandy’s rough red-checked shirt, against which her cheek rested,
     smelled strongly of horses. Somehow it was not a bad smell at all in a young man’s
     wool shirt.
    It was the pressure of the gradual swelling inside the boot that had caused the agony,
     the doctor said. He made one tentative effort to pull off the boot. The girl shrieked.
     Without ceremony he took a sharp instrument from his bag and cut the beautiful new
     boot to pieces. “There,” he said, carefully removing the shredded leather and the
     rags of stocking, “feels better now, doesn’t it?”
    “Much.”
    He squeezed and prodded the red-blue swelling, and made her move the foot and wriggle
     her toes. She was embarrassed because Sandy could see her bare leg. The doctor began
     to tape the ankle. “You’ll be all right in a few days. Just a sprain.”
    Mrs. Morgenstern picked up the ruined boot and Marjorie’s torn jacket, which lay crumpled
     on a chair. “You had to go riding in the park after three lessons. You had to wear
     the new outfit. You had to climb back on the horse with a sprained ankle. Hooray for
     you.”
    Sandy said, “It was my fault completely, ma’am. She rides very well. If not for that
     riding crop—”
    “I’m glad she got back on the horse. That’s the only good thing about the story,”
     said the father. He was as pale as his daughter. He had not previously uttered a word.
    Mrs. Morgenstern gave Sandy a bleak glance. “You said your name is what��Goldstein?”
    “Goldstone, ma’am,” Sandy said with his easy good-natured smile.
    “Goldstone… Your mother isn’t by any chance Eva Goldstone?”
    “She’s my aunt, ma’am. My mother is Mary Goldstone.”
    The mother straightened, smiled, and dropped the torn clothes on a chair. “Well, and
     a lovely lady, too. Isn’t she the vice-president of Manhattan Hadassah?”
    “Yes, Mother keeps pretty busy with those things.”
    “Well, and you didn’t have your lunch—I mean your brunch, as Margie calls it. You’ll
     stay and have it with us, of course.”
    “Well, ma’am, thank you, but I guess I better go and—”
    “How long will it take to fix some eggs? After all, you must be starved, and you took
     such good care of our girl—”
    Sandy glanced at Marjorie and raised his eyebrows slightly. She shrugged slightly.
     “Thanks a lot, I’ll be glad to stay if it isn’t too much trouble—”
    “Trouble!” exclaimed the mother, vanishing. She called them into the dining room in
     ten minutes. “Just a snack, naturally, there’s no time to fix anything.” Platters
     of smoked salmon, smoked whitefish, kippered herrings, lettuce and tomatoes, scrambled
     eggs, french-fried potatoes, rolls, toast, Danish pastry, and coffee cake covered
     the table.
    “Holy cow,” Sandy said. Mr. Morgenstern stared at the table and at his wife.
    Sandy, eating continuously and heartily, told them of his comic misadventures with
     horses in Arizona. It became a very jolly meal. Marjorie’s eyes were brightly fixed
     on Sandy; the mother was enchanted by him; Mr. Morgenstern warmed to him and began
     laughing. They were having their second cups of coffee when the house phone rang in
     the kitchen. Mrs. Morgenstern went to answer it. She returned in a moment looking
     very disturbed, and whispered in Marjorie’s ear. The girl seemed startled; then she
     glanced at Sandy, and her lips curved in a confident smile. “Of course, Mom. George
     said he might drop by.”
    “What’ll I tell him?” muttered the mother.
    “What? Why, tell him to come up of course, Mom dear.”

Chapter 3.
GEORGE
    George Drobes and Marjorie Morgenstern had been keeping steady company for the better
     part of two years.
    George was a victim of the depression. By training and ambition a bacteriologist,
     he had completed half his studies toward his master’s degree before being compelled
     to go to work in his father’s