The Memoirs of Maisie E-Book

Maude Hutchins

• Herausgeber: Olympia Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Love--Plain and Fancy! When granddaughter Paula started a dangerous flirtation with the gardener's son... And daughter Sissy got too chummy with a dashing man of the world... Maisie saw her past flash before her. She was a woman who had lived and loved both plain and fancy. And what went on about her now brought her past vividly to mind. Maisie has nothing to hide. Both her present and her past--reckless, vital and uninhibited--become a delightfully open book.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

The Memoirs of Maisie

Maude Hutchins

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

The Memoirs of Maisie

Maude Hutchins

This page copyright © 2007 Olympia Press.

http://www.olympiapress.com

Chapter One

“ALLEGED to have mugged,” the old lady muttered and she shivered although the room was warm, too warm, hot and dry, withering still more her old skin, an unnecessary astringent that made her scratch. She folded the paper with trembling fingers and attempted to swat an agile fly.

“I wonder what that means now,” she said, “'alleged to have mugged'?” The inference was naughty, the language of The New York Times, secret. She hid the paper between the cushion and the chair and let her eldest daughter, the old maid for whom she had no respect, kiss her lightly flushed and crepelike cheek,

“Hi, Granny, are you O.K.?”

The old lady sniffed and moved irritably in her chair, keeping to herself with some effort her disgust for Lamby's youthful lingo, her silly nostalgia, her vulgar grip on her lost youth, her fretful “girlish” look.

“O.K.,” she mumbled. “Humph.”

“What, Granny.”

But the old lady's eyes were good enough to see that Lamby was looking at herself in the mirror over the mantel and didn't expect an answer. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep but her lavender eyelids quivered and her mouth twitched. “Humph!” she said again. She was in a bad mood.

“Darn fly!” she said; the persistent creepy thing alone in the big room was attracted to the old lady's black silk dress and the cold cream, maybe, near her hairline, a spot on her bosom from lunch. “Filthy house, bad housekeepers, dirty dishes!” she said to herself, and out loud, “I want my tea.”

“You've had it,” said Lamby, not turning around but watching her mother's reflection in the mirror. “You've had your tea, Granny, Daisy brought it to you, you said it was good, remember?”