just wanted to wish Sue a Merry Christmas and congratulate Pat on the approaching wedding.
After five minutes of staring at Maude, Sue's guests picked up the party again and continued it. Under cover of the noise and crowd, Maude sought out Dot, whom she found on a camp stool close to the piano.
"Hello, Kid," she whispered. "How are you?"
Dot's eyes had seen the ham with its fat and sugary coat and had telegraphed a vivid description of it to Dot's stomach. Dot was miserably undecided about the matter. One ought to go home if one was going to be ill, but it was a terribly long ride, and subways and street cars are awful places to be ill in. Still, a party is no place for such things.
She looked up at Maude—Maude with her air of being superior to her surroundings, Maude who wore gold net and asked after a person's health. As though she really cared.
"I'm fine," she said and smiled whitely.
Maude leaned over her. "Did you see Griegman?" she whispered.
"Yes."
"Would he do it for you?"
"He'd do it for anybody, wouldn't he?" Dot asked. "I wouldn't let him, though. I've knocked all that craziness out of my head. I'm going to have my baby."
"Somebody told you about a woman's true mark of distinction and forgot to mention the pain." Maude was smiling humoringly down at Dot.
Dot looked across the room. It was hard for her to meet a person's gaze when she was going to say something nasty, and Dot had made up her mind to be nasty.
"Some women aren't yellow, Maude," she said.
"They're all brave six months before it starts to hurt," remarked Maude.
