Explore "Mother" by Owen Wister on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When handsome young Richard Field -- he was very handsome and very young -- announced to our assembled company that if his turn should really come to tell us a story, the story should be no invention of his fancy, but a page of truth, a chapter from his own life, in which himself was the hero and a lovely, innocent girl was the heroine, his wife at once looked extremely uncomfortable. She changed the reclining position in which she had been leaning back in her chair, and she sat erect, with a hand closed upon each arm of the chair.
"Richard," she said, "do you think that it is right of you to tell any one, even friends, anything that you have never yet confessed to me?"