"Admiring yourself?" she said laughing. "Well, I
don't blame you. You _are_ pretty."
Susan at first thought Rosa was mocking her. But the tone and
expression were sincere.
"It won't last long," Rosa went on. "I wasn't so bad myself
when I quit the high school and took a job because father lost
his business and his health. He got in the way of one of those
trusts. So of course they handed it to him good and hard. But
he wasn't a squealer. He always said they'd done only what
he'd been doing himself if he'd had the chance. I always think
of what papa used to say when I hear people carrying on about
how wicked this or that somebody else is."
"Are you going to stay on--at this life?" asked Susan, still
looking at her own image.
"I guess so. What else is there? . . . I've got a steady.
We'll get married as soon as he has a raise to twelve per. But
I'll not be any better off. My beau's too stupid ever to make
much. If you see me ten years from now I'll probably be a fat,
sloppy old thing, warming a window sill or slouching about in
dirty rags."
"Isn't there any way to--to escape?"
"It does look as though there ought to be--doesn't it? But
I've thought and thought, and __I__ can't see it--and I'm pretty
near straight Jew. They say things are better than they used
to be, and I guess they are. But not enough better to help me
any. Perhaps my children--_if_ I'm fool enough to have
any--perhaps they'll get a chance.
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