" But she could not complete any of the
manoeuvres, no matter how promisingly they started. In the end she
dashed a handful of hairpins on the floor and wound the hair about her
head with a few swift turns.
She studied the sullen, boyish visage which looked back at her. After
all, she would be unmercifully joked if she were to appear with her hair
grown suddenly fluffy and womanly--it would become impossible for her to
run the eating-place without the assistance of a man, and a fighting man
at that. So what was the use? She threw the mirror crashing on the
floor; it splintered in a thousand pieces.
"After all," she murmured aloud, "do I want to be a woman?"
The sullen mouth undoubtedly answered "No"; the wistful eyes undoubtedly
replied in another key. She shrugged the question away and stepped out
of her room toward the kitchen, whistling a tune to raise her spirits.
"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growing
pile which surmounted the warmer.
"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally.
The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantity
of dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; it
overflowed the griddle-iron.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235