Read My Sister's Hand in Mine for Free Online Page B

Miss Gamelon. Arnold returned finally with the key and opened the door to the room.
    It was a very small room and much colder than the room in which they had been sitting. Miss Goering expected that Arnold would be extremely embarrassed about this, but although he shivered and rubbed his hands together, he said nothing. There were no curtains at the window, but there was a yellow shade, which had already been pulled down. Miss Goering threw herself down on the bed.
    â€œWell, my dear,” said Arnold, “good night. I’m going to bed Maybe we’ll go and see some paintings tomorrow, or if you like I’ll come out to your house.” He put his arms around her neck and kissed her very lightly on the lips and left the room.
    She was so angry that there were tears in her eyes. Arnold stood outside of the door for a little while and then after a few minutes he walked away.
    Miss Goering went over to the bureau and leaned her head on her hands. She remained in this position for a long time in spite of the fact that she was shivering with the cold. Finally there was a light tap on the door. She stopped crying as abruptly as she had begun and hurried to open the door. She saw Arnold’s father standing outside in the badly lighted hall. He was wearing pink striped pajamas and he gave her a brief salute as a greeting. After that he stood very still, waiting apparently for Miss Goering to ask him in.
    â€œCome in, come in,” she said to him, “I’m delighted to see you. Heavens! I’ve had such a feeling of being deserted.”
    Arnold’s father came in and balanced himself on the foot of Miss Goering’s bed, where he sat swinging his legs. He lit his pipe in rather an affected manner and looked around him at the walls of the room.
    â€œWell, lady,” he said to her, “are you an artist too?”
    â€œNo,” said Miss Goering. “I wanted to be a religious leader when I was young and now I just reside in my house and try not to be too unhappy. I have a friend living with me, which makes it easier.”
    â€œWhat do you think of my son?” he asked, winking at her.
    â€œI have only just met him,” said Miss Goering.
    â€œYou’ll discover soon enough,” said Arnold’s father, “that he’s a rather inferior person. He has no conception of what it is to fight. I shouldn’t think women would like that very much. As a matter of fact, I don’t think Arnold has had many women in his life. If you’ll forgive me for passing this information on to you. I myself am used to fighting. I’ve fought my neighbors all my life instead of sitting down and having tea with them like Arnold. And my neighbors have fought me back like tigers too. Now that’s not Arnold’s kind of thing. My life’s ambition always has been to be a notch higher on the tree than my neighbors and I was willing to admit complete disgrace too when I ended up perching a notch lower than anybody else I knew. I haven’t been out in a good many years. Nobody comes to see me and I don’t go to see anybody. Now, with Arnold and his friends nothing ever really begins or finishes. They’re like fish in dirty water to me. If life don’t please them one way and nobody likes them one place, then they go someplace else. They aim to please and be pleased; that’s why it’s so easy to come and bop them on the head from behind, because they’ve never done any serious hating in their lives.”
    â€œWhat a strange doctrine!” said Miss Goering.
    â€œThis is no doctrine,” said Arnold’s father. “These are my own ideas, taken from my own personal experience. I’m a great believer in personal experience, aren’t you?”
    â€œOh, yes,” said Miss Goering, “and I do think you’re right about Arnold.” She felt a curious delight in running down Arnold.
    â€œNow Arnold,” continued his father,