HOWARD: [Entering; cheerfully] Got your coronas, Mr. Goldman! / GOLDMAN: [Glumly, taking the proffered cigars] Thanks, Howie. [Puts all but one in pocket.] / HOWARD: Where's Ma? / GOLDMAN: [Indicating with cigar] Inside the bedroom.
With his third novel he finally hit paydirt and wrote a bestseller.
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust consume, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth consume, and where thieves do not break through to steal: […]
The older woman waddled over and squeezed into a booth opposite the counter while the young one stood and ordered a big box of day-olds and two quarts of hot chocolate.
