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Cather, Willa Sibert, 1873-1947

"My Antonia"

He thought he
could pin it together until he got it to a tailor.
Lena took him by the elbow and turned him round. She laughed when she saw
the long gap in the satin. `You could never pin that, Mr. Ordinsky.
You've kept it folded too long, and the goods is all gone along the crease.
Take it off. I can put a new piece of lining-silk in there for you in ten
minutes.' She disappeared into her work-room with the vest, leaving me to
confront the Pole, who stood against the door like a wooden figure. He
folded his arms and glared at me with his excitable, slanting brown eyes.
His head was the shape of a chocolate drop, and was covered with dry,
straw-coloured hair that fuzzed up about his pointed crown. He had never
done more than mutter at me as I passed him, and I was surprised when he
now addressed me. `Miss Lingard,' he said haughtily, `is a young woman for
whom I have the utmost, the utmost respect.'
`So have I,' I said coldly.
He paid no heed to my remark, but began to do rapid finger-exercises on his
shirt-sleeves, as he stood with tightly folded arms.
`Kindness of heart,' he went on, staring at the ceiling, `sentiment, are
not understood in a place like this. The noblest qualities are ridiculed.
Grinning college boys, ignorant and conceited, what do they know of
delicacy!'
I controlled my features and tried to speak seriously.


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