shapeless, indescribable gray wrapper whose waistline was invisible from the front due to her breasts dripping over it. Her unbobbed gray hair was drawn up all around and screwed into a tight knot atop her head. Heavy plain gold ear-rings hung from holes punched through the lobes of her ears. Yet despite her ugliness and barbaric appearance, her features were good, indicating native intelligence and honesty. Carlotta Guarino was a good citizen. If only she could have made her children as good citizens as were she and their father—but then that was impossible, though she didn't see why, nor did they.
"Where were you so late?" she demanded in rapid-fire Italian. "It was after five when you came in."
"Aw, I was talkin' business with somebody," answered Tony in English.
"What kind of business could you talk at that time of the morning?" she demanded again in Italian. "You come home earlier. You be a good boy like Ben and don't get us into any trouble."
"All right," assented Tony and hurried out, relieved at escaping after so short a grilling.
That was the way it always went, reproaches, recriminations, cautions. She and his father could
