With her hand up to her bare neck, and her cheeks indrawn from sucking the sweet, the little model fixed her eyes on the tree.

Her expression did not change; she showed no signs of admiration.

Her gaze passed on to the back windows of the house that really owned the pear-tree, spying out whether anyone could see her--hoping, perhaps, someone would see her while she was feeling so nice and new.

Then, dropping the blind, she went back to the glass and began to pin her hair up.

When this was done she stood for a long minute looking at her old brown skirt and blouse, hesitating to defile her new-found purity.