Sandy’s mother was more troubled by Aunt Dvosha. She kept watching the vegetarian out of the corner of her eye. When the sweetbreads were served and she was about to eat them, Aunt Dvosha laid a hand on her arm and Mrs. Goldstone jumped as though pinched. “Excuse me,” said Aunt Dvosha, “but don’t.” “Pardon me?” “Excuse me, I know it’s not my business. But you’re an asthenic type. Like me. For an asthenic type to eat a gland—you may as well cut your throat and be done with it.”
