She knew the cold look of inquiry in Janet's eyes.

She could foresee the disconcerting questions that would be asked.

Janet's questions, coming dryly--all on one note--from those thin lips of hers, drove sometimes to a point that was almost too deep for Sally's comprehension.

And Sally is a woman of sex, not of intellect.
"You can have the glass now if you want it," said Janet, moving away to her bed.
Sally rose wearily and began to take off her things.
"I am fagged!" she exclaimed.
Janet said nothing.

The blue lines under Sally's eyes, that indescribable drawing of the flesh of those round cheeks, had told her that long ago.
Sally gazed at herself in the glass.