Her pretty rose-leaf skin had faded to a dull pallor; there were heavy shadows under her eyes; her helmet of wheaten-red hair had slipped down over her forehead, and even her firmly corseted figure appeared to have grown limp and yielding.

Without her offensive elegance she was merely a pathetic and rather silly young thing.
"I'll help you," said Gabriella, taking up several hats from a chair.
"The others have gone, haven't they ?" "They got out before I'd finished waiting on that middle-aged frump who doesn't know what she wants any more than the policeman out there at the corner does.

She's made me show her all we've got left, and after she'd tried them all on, she said they're too high, and she's going to think over them before she decides.

She's still waiting for something, and my head's splitting so I can hardly see what I'm doing." With a final surrender of her arrogance, she grew suddenly confidential and childish.

"I'm sick enough to die," she finished despairingly, "and I've got a friend coming to take me to the theatre at eight o'clock." "Well, run away.