Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/156

146 At that he simply imprisoned one of her feet under the table between two of his, and leaned towards her, his eyes still gobbling her up.

She drew away her foot, too, and perched it safely on the rung of her chair.

"Nothing doing, Ed," she shrugged.

"What's the matter?" he inquired. She hadn't shown squeamishness before. "What's got into you all of a sudden?"

"I guess it's age, Ed," she confessed, "and it isn't all of a sudden."

He merely laughed at that and tried to grasp her hand again. But she wouldn't let him. He frowned. Flushed a little.

"I don't wonder you're mad, Ed."

"I didn't say I was mad."

"But you aren't pleased, I guess. I know. Ed, listen. I don't blame you a bit. I'm disgusted myself with the way I act, with the way I feel, or the way I don't feel. But don't, please, think it's anything personal. There's no man living could get me really going now. It isn't your fault. It's Lollie's. It's that darned little Lollie's fault!" She brought out fiercely. "I'm no good for anything any more except to be her mother. I'm so crazy about Lollie that she uses up all the emotion I've got, so I'm just sort of dead ashes with everybody else in the world."

"You're alive enough for me."

But Stella was deaf to flattery now. "Ed," she exclaimed, "I simply worship Laurel!" And the expression that forced its way through the make-up on her face had something sublime about it. A tear splashed down her cheeks. "You see!" She