Gigolo by Edna Ferber Chapter 7 Page 56

to-night. She longed, now, for her own room. Wished she might go to it and stay there, quietly.

“Marcia, I don’t think I’ll come to dinner to-night. I’m so tired. I think I’ll just go home — — ”

“But I got the broilers specially for you, and the sweet potatoes candied the way you like them, and a lemon cream pie.”

When they reached home they found Joan, listless, on the steps. One of her sudden sore throats. Stomach, probably. A day in bed for her. By to-morrow she would be quite all right. Hannah Winter wondered why she did not feel more concern. Joan’s throats had always thrown her into a greater panic than she had ever felt at her own children’s illnesses. To-day she felt apathetic, indifferent.