Rabbi Thalmann was up in his study. Fanny ran lightly up
the stairs.
"Who is it, Emil? That Minna! Next Monday her week is up.
She goes."
"It's I, Mrs. Thalmann. Fanny Brandeis."
"Na, Fanny! Now what do you think!"
In the brightly-lighted doorway of his little study appeared
Rabbi Thalmann, on one foot a comfortable old romeo, on the
other a street shoe. He held out both hands. "Only at
supper we talked about you. Isn't that so, Harriet?" He
called into the darkened room.
"I came to say good-by. And I thought we might walk to
temple together. How's Mrs. Thalmann tonight?"
The little rabbi shook his head darkly, and waved a dismal
hand. But that was for Fanny alone. What he said was:
"She's really splendid to-day. A little tired, perhaps; but
what is that?"
"Emil!" from the darkened bedroom. "How can you say that?
But how! What I have suffered to-day, only! Torture! And
because I say nothing I'm not sick."
"Go in," said Rabbi Thalmann.
So Fanny went in to the woman lying, yellow-faced, on
the pillows of the dim old-fashioned bedroom with its walnut
furniture, and its red plush mantel drape.
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