"
"It's a shame to disturb you," said Ida. "But dinner's ready.
Don't stop to dress first. I'll bring you a kimono."
Susan turned on the cold water, and the bath rapidly changed
from warm to icy. When she had indulged in the sense of cold
as delightful in its way as the sense of warmth, she rubbed her
glowing skin with a rough towel until she was rose-red from
head to foot. Then she put on stockings, shoes and the pink
kimono Ida had brought, and ran along the hall to dinner. As
she entered Ida's room, Ida exclaimed, "How sweet and pretty
you do look! You sure ought to make a hit!"
"I feel like a human being for the first time in--it seems
years--ages--to me."
"You've got a swell color--except your lips. Have they always
been pale like that?"
"No."
"I thought not. It don't seem to fit in with your style. You
ought to touch 'em up. You look too serious and innocent,
anyhow. They make a rouge now that'll stick through
everything--eating, drinking--anything."
Susan regarded herself critically in the glass. "I'll see,"
she said.
The odor of the cooking chops thrilled Susan like music. She
drew a chair up to the table, sat in happy-go-lucky fashion,
and attacked the chop, the hot biscuit, and the peas, with an
enthusiasm that inspired Ida to imitation. "You know how to
cook a chop," she said to Ida. "And anybody who can cook a
chop right can cook.
Pages:
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700