254
PARTISAN REVIEW
dearly, I had not the courage to investigate the drawers which were
always neatly shut, but I was sure that they were in scrupulous order.
The other old ladies, almost without exception, allowed the feet of
stockings and the straps of camisoles to stream from each gaping tier
like so many dispirited banners.
As
I watched, Miss Pride ascended the steps that led from the
Hotel beach, and I knew that now she would enter the dining room
and, after she had eaten one boiled egg and one slice of toast, she
would examine the newspaper over her coffee while all about her,
her coevals would be prattling of their sound sleep or their insomnia,
depending on how the dinner of the night before had affected them.
It seemed to me that Miss Pride looked up and saw me even though
my face was hidden by the marquisette curtains and my body was
behind the heavy drapery. I backed away from the window and
began to run the oiled mop over the edges of the floor which the rug
did not cover. While I worked, I heard Mrs. McKenzie thrashing
about in the bed and rise finally, stumbling over her shoes, bumping
against the furniture and repeating her vociferous yaWn. The sound
of the bed rolling across the floor, as I pulled it out to make it, roused
her to rap on the wall and cry, "Good morning, Mrs. Marburg! I've
been a lazybones again today!"
I did not answer. There was something
in
the tone: of her voice,
a quality of dampness-as though the words themselves were kisses
from unminded lips-which embarra.."Sed me. She called again, "Yoo,
hoo, Mrs. Marburg !"
"It's Sonie," I grudgingly gave out.
"Oh. Well, Sonie, I'll be out of my room in three shakes of a
lamb's tail and then you can come get me straight."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Get yourself a lemon drop, dear!"
Presently I heard her door open and close and heard her toil
down the stairs, one dropsical foot at a time. I now worked rapidly,
brushing my cloth over the bedc;ide table, the writing desk, and the
bureau, plumping up the cherub pillows and setting the bolster
precisely at the head of the bed. When I had finished, I stood for a
few minutes before the mirror and, as I had done many times before,
pulled out the stoppers of the bottles and inhaled their clean, alcoholic
fragrance. I opened the black box and gazed upon the white silk but–
ton gloves, the yellowing white kid and black chamois ones, amongst
which were scattered single cuff-links, broken bone buttons, a mys–
terious, starshaped brooch and three edible beads. My brief survey
finished, I sat down before the desk and though I touched nothing,
