"
"Thank you, Wheeler."
"Lord!" he said, rising and rubbing his hands together. "Give us a
couple of fingers to drink, honey; I'm cotton-mouthed."
She reached languidly for a blue-enameled bell, lying back, with her
arms dangling and her smile out. Then, as if realizing that the occasion
must be lifted, turned her face to him.
"Old bummer!" she said, using one of her terms of endearment for him and
two-thirds closing her eyes. Then did he stoop and kiss her roundly on
the lips.
* * * * *
For the remainder of this tale, I could wish for a pen supernally
dipped, or for a metaphysician's plating to my vernacular, or for the
linguistic patois of that land off somewhere to the west of Life. Or
maybe just a neurologist's chart of Hester's nerve history would help.
In any event, after an evening of musical comedy and of gelatinous
dancing, Hester awoke at four o'clock the next morning out of an hour of
sound sleep, leaping to her knees there in bed like a quick flame, her
gesture shooting straight up toward the jointure of wall and ceiling.
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