Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk

here?”
    “Hello, Mary,” Mrs. Morgenstern said. “Sandy, how are you?”
    “Well, what a surprise. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” said Mrs. Goldstone.
     “You knew we were here. I’d have arranged lunch—”
    Marjorie glanced at her mother, who suddenly appeared sheepish and confused. “Why,
     I guess—the thing is, Mary, we just decided to come on the spur of the moment. Mr.
     Morgenstern wouldn’t let us stay in the city, it’s so awful in there. I don’t think
     you’ve met Marjorie yet, have you? Marjorie, Mrs. Goldstone.”
    The silver-rimmed glasses turned and glittered at the girl. “How do you do?” The hand
     was cool and dry, the handshake brief.
    Sandy invited them to come along for a foursome.
    “We don’t play golf,” Marjorie said.
    “I’m always willing to learn,” said Mrs. Morgenstern. “It would take us a little while
     to register and change, but—”
    “Mom, I do not want to learn to play golf just now,” said Marjorie, making the words
     separate and distinct as pistol shots.
    “Maybe we can have lunch together,” Mrs. Morgenstern said to Sandy’s mother. “What
     table are you sitting at?”
    Mrs. Goldstone smiled. “I’m afraid we won’t be back for lunch. We’re having a bite
     at the clubhouse. But I’m sure we’ll see a lot of you. Goodbye.”
    While Mrs. Morgenstern registered, and while they rode up in the elevator, Marjorie
     held the flesh of her lower lip between her teeth. Mrs. Morgenstern wore an innocent
     happy smile.
    Marjorie slammed the door of their room behind her, and stood with her back to it.
     “Mother, we’re going straight home.”
    “What? Are you crazy?” said the mother mildly, taking off her hat at the mirror. “We
     just got here.”
    “How could you, Mom? How could you?”
    “How could I what? Can I help it if the Goldstones like the Prado? Does that mean
     we’re not allowed to come here? It’s still a free country, even if Sandy is at the
     Prado.”
    Two bellboys in gold-braided scarlet suits wheeled in the trunks. Marjorie strode
     to the window and stood in a silent rage while Mrs. Morgenstern cheerfully directed
     the bellboys in placing and opening the luggage, including Marjorie’s trunks. As soon
     as they were gone Marjorie whirled on her. “I said I was going. What’s the point of
     opening everything up?”
    “You want to clean up and have a swim, don’t you? There’s no sense going back into
     that furnace today.”
    “I want to leave right now.”
    Mrs. Morgenstern pulled her dress over her head. “Well, I’m not stopping you. I’m
     going to have a swim before lunch, myself.” She took her bathing suit into the bathroom,
     dropping Marjorie’s new suit on the bed. “Personally, I think you’re being very foolish.
     What’s so wrong about having a boy you know at the hotel? It’ll be more fun—”
    “Good heavens, Mom, how thick is your skin? Didn’t you see how his mother looked at
     us?”
    “Mary Goldstone’s a lovely person. She looks at everybody that way. She’s a little
     nearsighted.”
    “She thinks you’re sharpening your teeth for Sandy. And that’s just what you’re doing,
     and I won’t be a party to such—”
    “Listen, Marjorie, you can’t fool me. You like the boy.”
    “And what if that’s so? This is the very worst thing to do about it—going chasing
     after him to a hotel—”
    “You weren’t doing too well by not chasing him, dear.”
    “Mom…
Mom
, that is nobody’s business but my own. When will you ever understand that?”
    Mrs. Morgenstern came out of the bathroom in flapping slippers and bathing suit, with
     a towel around her neck. “Sometimes one little push makes all the difference.—Coming
     for a swim?”
    “No, I am not.”
    Mrs. Morgenstern opened the door. “See you at lunch, then—unless you take the train
     home, of course. If you do, give my love to Papa.”
    Marjorie paced the room, fuming. The sun beat straight into