I was just
about to touch her fingers, but I let the opportunity pass. I turned
the conversation on her husband, on his devotion to her, on their
wedding. She mocked my questions, but answered them all the
same
"He must have been awfully in love with you," I said
"What business is that of yours? Where did you learn to ask such
questions? At the synagogue? Of course he loved me! What would
you have? That he should have hated me? Why did he marry me,
then? Of course he was in love with me! Else I would not have
married him, would I? Are you satisfied now?" She boasted of the
rich and well-connected suitors she had rejected
I felt that I had side-tracked my flirtation. Touching her hand
would have been out of place now
A few minutes later, when I was saying my morning prayers, I
carefully kept my eyes away from her lest I should meet her
sneering glance.
When I had finished my devotions and had put my phylacteries
into their little bag I sat down to breakfast. "I don't like this
woman at all," I said to myself, looking at her.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197