Gigolo by Edna Ferber Chapter 7 Page 57

She helped tuck the rebellious Joan in bed. Joan was spluttering about some plan for to-morrow. And Marcia was saying, “But you can’t go to-morrow, Joan. You know you can’t, with that throat. Mother will have to stay home with you, too, and give up her plans to go to the country club with Daddy, and it’s the last chance she’ll have, too, for a long, long time. So you’re not the only one to suffer.” Hannah Winter said nothing.

They went in to dinner at 6.30. It was a good dinner. Hannah Winter ate little, said little. Inside Hannah Winter a voice — a great, strong voice, shaking with its own earnestness and force — was shouting in rebellion. And over and over it said, to the woman in the mirror at the north end of Peacock Alley: “Three score — and ten to go.