He was nervous because he was dyspeptic, and
at one time of his career he mistook stomach trouble for a call to the
pulpit. And he was a millionnaire more times than he took the trouble to
count.
"Yes," he timidly replied, "I _did_ change my wavering mind--as you call
that deficient organ of mine--and so I returned. I hope I don't disturb
you!"
"No, not yet. I am sitting with my hands folded in my lap, like the
women of your class--_ladies_, you call them." She accented the title,
without bitterness. A cursory estimate of her appearance would have
placed her in the profession of a trained nurse, or perhaps in the
remotest analysis, a sewing woman of superior tastes. She was small,
wiry, her head too large for her body; but the abounding nervous
vitality, the harsh fire that burned in her large brown eyes, and the
firm mouth would have attracted the attention of the most careless. Her
mask, with its high Slavic cheek-bones and sharp Jewish nose, proclaimed
her a magnetic woman. In her quarter on the far East Side the children
called her "Aunt Yetta.
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