“All the children had gone through a time of yearning after their mother, who had lavished affectionate attention on each one of them now and then, but Agnes’s happiest idea of her childhood involved her father. By the time she was five or six years old, he had often taken her along with him to business or political meetings at the Eola Arms Hotel in Washburn. She was thrilled to be included and had no idea that her excited leave-taking had been perceived by her mother as a bewildering rejection... of herself. Dwight Claytor wasn’t a sentimental or doting sort of father, but he solemnly held her dining chair for her—and all the other businessmen or politicians stood politely, looking on with real or feigned indulgence—until he assured himself that his daughter was comfortably seated. And Agnes was so careful in her best dress and uncomfortable dress-up shoes to be well-behaved, to keep her elbows off the table, to place her knife and fork exactly right on her plate when she was done, that the other men relievedly forgot about her and leaned forward on their elbows, jabbing at the air with an index finger—or a cigar streaming pale curls of smoke—to make a point.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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