Roast Beef, Medium by Edna Ferber
page 96 of 186 (51%)
page 96 of 186 (51%)
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T. A. Junior searched her face with his glowing eyes.
"Does my father know that you have a young man son? Queer you never mentioned it. "Queer? Maybe. Also, I don't remember ever having mentioned what church my folks belonged to, or where I was born, or whether I like my steak rare or medium, or what my maiden name was, or the size of my shoes, or whether I take my coffee with or without. That's because I don't believe in dragging private and family affairs into the business relation. I think I ought to tell you that on the way in I met Ed Meyers, of the Strauss Sans-silk Skirt Company, coming out. So anything you say won't surprise me." "You wouldn't be surprised," asked T. A. Junior smoothly, "if I were to say that I'm considering giving a man your territory?" Emma McChesney's eyes--those eyes that had seen so much of the world and its ways, and that still could return your gaze so clearly and honestly--widened until they looked so much like those of a hurt child, or a dumb animal that has received a death wound, that young T. A. dropped his gaze in confusion. Emma McChesney stood up. Her breath came a little quickly. But when she spoke, her voice was low and almost steady. "If you expect me to beg you for my job, you're mistaken. T. A. Buck's Featherloom Petticoats have been my existence for almost ten years. I've sold Featherlooms six days in the week, and seven when I had a Sunday customer. They've not only been my business and my means of earning a livelihood, they've been my religion, my diversion, my life, |
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