You are not angry at me, are
you?" she added, suavely
She simply could not afford to lose the rent I paid her
Since then she held herself at a respectful distance from me
I called on smiling Mrs. Dienstog, my former landlady, in whose
house I was no stranger. I timed this visit at an hour when I knew
her to be alone
In this venture I met with scarcely any resistance at first. She let
me hold her hand and caress it and tell her how soft and tender it
was.
"Do you think so?" she said, coyly, her eyes clouding with
embarrassment. "I don't think they are soft at all. They would be if
I did not have so much washing and scrubbing to do." Then she
added, sadly: "America has made a servant of me. A land of gold,
indeed! When I was in my father's house I did not have to scrub
floors."
I attempted to raise her wrist to my lips, but she checked me. She
did not break away from me, however. She held me off, but she
did not let go of the index finger of my right hand, which she
clutched with all her might, playfully.
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