Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/61

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had awakened fresh doubts in her brooding nature. Maybe it had been God's will. He was still the same ironic God of the Jews. Why, precisely a at the very moment when she had been ready to go, had that extraordinary interruption taken place? Was it not some providential hand that held her back?

When the two girls reached the Levitan house Anna hesitated outside for a moment.

"Are you sure nobody is home?" she asked, staring at the shining brass door.

"What are you talking about!" Mary exclaimed. "I told you they go out every Friday, didn't I? And I don't mean out of their minds, either. That's the way fashionable people live. One day people visit them, and another day they return the visit. Now you understand?"

"And what about their daughter, your cousin?"

"Oh, her? She's got ten men a minute chasing after her. Do you think she's going to stay in the house? Sure, she's just the type! Do you think she's like us? She's in a class all by herself! Real swank!"

"Is she really so gorgeous looking?" Anna felt a sudden wave of interest in this girl she had never seen.

"At least she thinks she is. Besides, is it such a great trick for a girl in Paris to look beautiful? A little paint and powder, here, a little perfume there"-Mary waved her hands in eloquent gestures-"and there are enough men to come sniffing after you like dogs in heat."

"Well, anyway, tell me," continued Mary, "what about your boy friend Yaska? It wouldn't be such a bad idea to waltz to the altar with him. Certainly better than spending the rest of your life in the shop. Besides, he's not a bad guy. Believe me, if I wasn't so hot and bothered about that Warsaw catch of mine, I'd grab him away from you, just like that"-snapping her fingers.