You look a kid. You're young in all the
spots where other women of thirty-nine look old. Around the eyes, and
under the chin, and your hands, and the corners of your mouth."
In the twilight Emma McChesney turned to stare at her son. "Just where
did you learn all that, young 'un? At college?"
And, "Some view, isn't it, Mother?" parried Jock. The two stood there,
side by side, looking out across the great city that glittered and
swam in the soft haze of the late November afternoon. There are
lovelier sights than New York seen at night, from a window eyrie with
a mauve haze softening all, as a beautiful but experienced woman is
softened by an artfully draped scarf of chiffon. There are cities of
roses, cities of mountains, cities of palm-trees and sparkling lakes;
but no sight, be it of mountains, or roses, or lakes, or waving palm-
trees, is more likely to cause that vague something which catches you
in the throat.
It caught those two home-hungry people. And it opened the lips of one
of them almost against his will.
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