Angela Wexler Quotes in The Westing Game
Who were these people, these specially selected tenants? They were mothers and fathers and children. A dressmaker, a secretary, an inventor, a doctor, a judge. And, oh yes, one was a bookie, one was a burglar, one was a bomber, and one was a mistake.
Jake turned to Madame Hoo. "Hi there, partner."
"She doesn't speak English, Dad," Angela said flatly.
'And she never will, Angela, if no one talks to her."
The coffee shop was full of diners.
Shin Hoo's restaurant had reopened. too, but no one came.
Madame Hoo served in a tight-fitting silk gown slit high up her thigh, a costume as old-fashioned and impractical as bound feet. Women in China wore blouses and pants and jackets. That's what she would wear when she got home.
Angela was still seated on the cushion in the middle of the floor. Fragments of the scorched box lay in her burned hands. Blood oozed from an angry gash on her cheek and trickled down her beautiful face.
The great winter fireworks extravaganza, as it came to be called, lasted only fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes later the Westing house had burned to the ground.
"Hello, Angela." Denton Deere had grown a thick moustache. He was a neurologist. He had never married.
"Hello, Denton." Angela's golden hair was tied in a knot on the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup. She was completing her third year of medical school. "It's been a long time."
Veiled in black, she hurried from the funeral services. It was Saturday and she had an important engagement. Angela brought her daughter, Alice, to the Wexler-Theodorakis mansion to spend Saturday afternoons with her aunt.
There she was, waiting for her in the library. Baba had tied red ribbons in the one long pigtail down her back.
"Hi there, Alice," T. R. Wexler said. "Ready for a game of chess?"
Angela Wexler Quotes in The Westing Game
Who were these people, these specially selected tenants? They were mothers and fathers and children. A dressmaker, a secretary, an inventor, a doctor, a judge. And, oh yes, one was a bookie, one was a burglar, one was a bomber, and one was a mistake.
Jake turned to Madame Hoo. "Hi there, partner."
"She doesn't speak English, Dad," Angela said flatly.
'And she never will, Angela, if no one talks to her."
The coffee shop was full of diners.
Shin Hoo's restaurant had reopened. too, but no one came.
Madame Hoo served in a tight-fitting silk gown slit high up her thigh, a costume as old-fashioned and impractical as bound feet. Women in China wore blouses and pants and jackets. That's what she would wear when she got home.
Angela was still seated on the cushion in the middle of the floor. Fragments of the scorched box lay in her burned hands. Blood oozed from an angry gash on her cheek and trickled down her beautiful face.
The great winter fireworks extravaganza, as it came to be called, lasted only fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes later the Westing house had burned to the ground.
"Hello, Angela." Denton Deere had grown a thick moustache. He was a neurologist. He had never married.
"Hello, Denton." Angela's golden hair was tied in a knot on the nape of her neck. She wore no makeup. She was completing her third year of medical school. "It's been a long time."
Veiled in black, she hurried from the funeral services. It was Saturday and she had an important engagement. Angela brought her daughter, Alice, to the Wexler-Theodorakis mansion to spend Saturday afternoons with her aunt.
There she was, waiting for her in the library. Baba had tied red ribbons in the one long pigtail down her back.
"Hi there, Alice," T. R. Wexler said. "Ready for a game of chess?"
