"Let's try it," she whispered.
A little choking sound was the only answer.

But the woman rose and, Joan following, they stole upstairs into the bedroom and Mrs.Phillips turned the key.
It took a long time, and Joan, seated on the bed, remembered a night when she had taken a trapped mouse (if only he had been a quiet mouse!) into the bathroom and had waited while it drowned.

It was finished at last, and Mrs Phillips stood revealed with her hair down, showing streaks of dingy brown.
Joan tried to enthuse; but the words came haltingly.

She suggested to Joan a candle that some wind had suddenly blown out.

The paint and powder had been obvious, but at least it had given her the mask of youth.
She looked old and withered.