sand times, and then I have my own kind, the people who really amount to something, writers and painters and musicians, just once, and he can hardly live through it. Oh, well, I ought to be used to it by now, only I do so long for a little understanding, a little give and take."
"Why, Curtis adores you, Christabel."
"Yes, of course he does. It's a wise little mother, and a comforting one. I wish I could stay up here with you, just the two of us, cozily! I'll be thinking of you all evening. Now go to bed soon and have a lovely sleep. Good night, dearest."
But nobody comes to New York for a lovely sleep, Mrs. Caine thought, rebelliously. Besides, she didn't feel sleepy. If she had been at home, she and Fred would just be starting for a movie or settling down to a game of Russian Bank. What's Fred doing now? she wondered, feeling rather homesick.
She tried to find something to read. There was O Fair Dove, but she knew that nearly by
