"Never? Never?"
"I have told you you're a charming girl, haven't I? What more do
you want?"
The American children of the Ghetto are American not only in
their language, tastes, and ambitions, but in outward appearance
as well. Their bearing, gestures, the play of their features, and
something in the very expression of their Semitic faces proclaim
the land of their birth. All this was true of Lucy. She was
fascinatingly American, and I told her so
"You're not simply a charming girl. You're a charming American
girl," I said.
I wondered whether Dora had been keeping up her studies, and by
questioning Lucy about the books under her arm I contrived to
elicit the information that her mother had read not only such
works as the Vicar of Wakefield, Washington Irving's Sketch
Book, and Lamb's Shakespeare Stories, which had been part of
Lucy's course during her first year at college, but that she had also
read some of the works of Cooper, George Eliot, Dickens,
Thackeray, Hawthorne, and all sorts of cheaper novels
"Mother is a great reader," Lucy said.
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