Read Online Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk - Free Book Online Page A

worse as they bumped along the dark side road. The groan
     under the floorboard had changed to a screech like an electric butcher saw on bone.
     “Dear,” said Marjorie in some alarm, “how about that noise?”
    George cocked his ear and gnawed his lip. “Well, nothing to be done about it. Can’t
     tear down the transmission now, on the side of the road. I don’t know. Sometimes she
     just works through these noises and purrs like a cat again. We’ll see.”
    Coming to the parkway, they could see strings of white headlights stretched to the
     horizon in one direction and strings of red tail lights in the other, moving in the
     moonlight with the slimy slowness of worms. “Oh dear,” said Marjorie.
    “Well, Sunday night is bad,” said George. It took him ten minutes of narrow maneuvering
     to wedge into the solid westbound line. “Okay,” he said with relief, grinning at her,
     “homeward bound.” He reached over and tousled her hair, and she was unpleasantly reminded
     of Sandy Goldstone. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in your little brown bed by midnight.”
     He pulled the box of rings out of his pocket. “Take another look at them? I think
     they’re honeys.”
    “George, they must have cost a fortune.” She eyed the rings in the dim yellow light
     of the parkway lamps. They were a matched pair in white gold, the wedding ring plain,
     the engagement ring set with a small rose-cut diamond.
    “What’s the difference? They’re yours.”
    “No, really. After all, I know how hard things have been and—”
    “Well, it sometimes helps to have a jeweler in the family.” George looked roguish.
    “George, did your Uncle Albie give them to you?”
    “Marge, it’s perfectly all right. It was his own idea. Naturally I’ll pay him some
     day as soon as I’m able.” The grinding noise of Penelope was now so loud that George
     was shouting a little.
    “Shouldn’t we wait till then?” Marjorie’s teeth were shaken by the motion of the car.
    “What?”
    Marjorie repeated it, louder.
    George, clutching the wheel, which was beginning to shimmy, shouted, “What kind of
     silly remark is that? Good Lord, Marjorie, I’m drudging away in the Bronx, trying
     to save up enough to finish my M.A. and Ph.D., and you’re flitting around downtown
     meeting new guys every day, going to Columbia dances and what all—how do you suppose
     that makes me feel? I’m worried. I can’t tell what you—”
    He broke off, his whole body stiffening, his arms rigid on the wheel. Penelope suddenly
     was collapsing in a frightful way, shaking and bumping and crashing, with a smell
     of red-hot iron filling the car and trickles of smoke coming up through the floorboard.
     George swerved off the parkway; the stricken car went bouncing over soft earth. He
     shut off the ignition, reached roughly across Marjorie to shove open the door, and
     pushed her out. “Get clear.” Marjorie stumbled away through the grass, soaking her
     stockings, then turned and watched George cautiously open the hood and shine a flashlight
     at the engine. He ducked under the chassis and flashed the light here and there. Penelope
     stood hub-deep in weeds, leaning to one side. On the road cars flowed by with a rich
     hiss of tires, nobody stopping to look at the wreck or offer help. George stood and
     waved. “Okay, come back. Stripped a gear, I guess. There’s no fire.”
    Walking back to the car, Marjorie became aware of something bulky in her hand. She
     held it up, and was astonished to see that she was still clutching the jewel box.
     “Now what?” she said to George.
    “Phone for a tow car. Nothing else to do.” He shrugged his bowed shoulders, patted
     the hood of the car, and peered through the swarm of cars. “There’s a police phone,
     I think, on that lamp post down there. Come with me, or stay here? I’ll just be a
     couple of minutes.”
    “I—I guess I’d better stay off the ankle, George.”
    “All right.” He opened the car