It had stamped her indelibly in Fanny's mind.
The day before she left for New York (she sailed from there)
she had a letter from Theodore. It was evident at once that
he had not received her cable. He was in Russia, giving a
series of concerts. Olga and the baby were with him. He
would be back in Munich in June. There was some talk of
America. When Fanny realized that she was not to see him
she experienced a strange feeling that was a mixture of
regret and relief. All the family love in her, a
racial trait, had been stirred at the thought of again
seeing that dear blond brother, the self-centered, willful,
gifted boy who had held the little congregation rapt, there
in the Jewish house of worship in Winnebago. But she had
recoiled a little from the meeting with this other unknown
person who gave concerts in Russia, who had adopted Munich
as his home, who was the husband of this Olga person, and
the father of a ridiculously German looking baby in a very
German looking dress, all lace and tucks, and wearing
bracelets on its chubby arms, and a locket round its neck.
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