“Jude asked Bess as she was setting the table for supper on Christmas Eve. She glanced at the gracefully folded napkin beside his plate. “It’s a napkin,” she told him. He glowered at it, and abruptly lifted it in his lean hand and shook it out. “If it’s a napkin, suppose you let it look like one! This isn’t your plantation, little Georgia peach.” She glared at him. “You’ll find napkins done that way in elegant restaurants all over the country,” she said with deliberate sarcasm. “If you’d rather ...wipe your mouth on your sleeve…” His eyes flickered with a burst of emotion. “Like a savage?” he taunted. He threw the napkin down onto his plate. “That’s what you’ve always considered me, Bess. From the early days.” “That’s not at all true,” she said quietly. She stopped lining up silverware and stood erect, her hair long and soft, floating around the shoulders of the white Victorian dress she was wearing. “Isn’t it?” He laughed shortly. He bent to crush out his cigarette in the big ceramic ashtray she’d put out for him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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