Sentence The Sixhundredandseventeenth

 

Meanwhile, on January 9th, 1947, Bernie Cohen really couldn't believe his good fortune: to have found Sadie Glenfinnan (or to give her real name, Kaplan) a good Jewish girl from New York, with Scottish ancestry on her mother's side and true grit in her veins, who'd survived her own nightmares and lived to tell the tale, and not only to find her, to fall head over heels in love with her; for years, Bernie had kept his nose in the law books he'd studied at Glasgow University and the work he did as a solicitor, had hardly dated, rarely kissed and, truth to tell, knew little about girls, love or sex, but here he was, smitten by this kitten, and though he had nothing to compare it with, knew in his soul that it was the real thing and, surprise surprise, she felt the same about him! and right now, as he sat in the jitney, the Number 14 Tram which ran up and down between Hillfoot and Maryhill, and which was ideal for his travels both to work and to meet Sadie, and today he was carrying a Yucca tree from his mother, who surprisingly (to him) had taken to Sadie at first sight, instantly divining her Jewish heritage (even though her mother was a shiksa) before Bernie had time to introduce her, having caught sight of them waiting for a bus on Maryhill Road when she was going home in her husband's 

car, and once she knew the family's name and address she was able to confirm to Sadie that her parents were alive and well, as were her siblings, and Mrs Cohen's cousin Ruthie Rubinstein actually knew them personally, having served on the same War Bond Committee with Sadie's mom, "but take Ruthie's indispensability on the Committee with a ladle-full of salt, the whole family is into flackery, her husband, Solly, is a press-agent for CBS and glad-hands his way around town with pocketfuls of free tickets he distributes wherever he goes. it's enough to make an Indian Fakir crapulous," after which there was nothing more to be said!