It was the first expression of the mother's blood. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. “I can’t endure it,” she said. There were electric and ice plants, and a great store in which one could buy anything from jewsharps to gas-engines. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. I fought. ” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. He would always be her friend, too.
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