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the skin of face to it, to light the cigarette. With the fag at the side of her face and her throat. It had emerged from its mask of her lip, her eyes screwed up against the flame, she looked powder and grease the colour of cream - the colour of the like a boy again; when she took the cigarette away, lace on her chemise; but it was darkened at the nose and however, the cork was smudged with crimson. Seeing that, cheeks - and even, I saw, at the edge of her lip - by freckles, she tutted: 'Look at me, with all my paint still on! Will you brown as her hair. I had not suspected the existence of the sit with me while I clean my face? It's not very polite, I freckles. I found them wonderfully and inexplicably know, but I must get ready rather quick; my room is needed moving.
    later by another girl..."
    She wiped her breath from the glass, then, and gave me a I did as she asked, and sat and watched her smear her wink, and asked me more about myself; and because it was cheeks with cream, then take a cloth to them. She worked somehow easier to talk to her reflection than to her face, I quickly and carefully, but distractedly; and as she rubbed at began at last to chat with her quite freely. At first she her face she held my gaze in the glass. She looked at my answered as I thought an actress should - comfortably, new hat and said, 'What a pretty bonnet!' Then she asked rather teasingly, laughing when I blushed or said a foolish how I knew Tony - was he my beau? I was shocked at that thing. Gradually, however - as if she was stripping the paint and said, 'Oh, no! He is courting my sister'; and she from her voice, as well as from her face - her tone grew laughed. Where did I live? she asked me then. What did I milder, less pert and pressing. At last - she gave a yawn, work at?
    and rubbed her knuckles in her eyes - at last her voice was
    'I work in an oyster-house,' I said.
    just a girl's: melodious and strong and clear, but just a
    'An oyster-house!' The idea seemed to tickle her. Still Kentish girl's voice, like my own.
    rubbing at her cheeks, she began to hum, and then to sing Like the freckles, it made her - not unremarkable, as I had very low beneath her breath.
    feared to find her; but marvellously, achingly real. Hearing
    'As I was going down Bishopgate Street, An oyster-girl I it, I understood at last my wildness of the past seven days. I happened to meet -'
    thought, how queer it is! - and yet, how very ordinary: I am A swipe at the crimson of her lip, the black of her lashes.
    in love with you.
    'Into her basket I happened to peep, To see if she'd got any Soon her face was wiped quite bare, and her cigarette oysters . . .'
    smoked to the filter; and then she rose and put her fingers to She sang on; then opened one eye very wide, and leaned her hair. 'I had better change,' she said, almost shyly. I took close to the glass to remove a stubborn crumb of spit-black 35

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    the hint, and said that I should go, and she walked the I put my glove back on. My fingers seemed to tingle against couple of steps with me to the door.
    the cloth. 'Will you come and see me again, Miss
    'Thank you, Miss Astley,' she said - she already had my Mermaid?' she asked. Her tone was light; incredibly, name from Tony - 'for coming to see me.' She held out her however, she seemed to mean it. I said, Oh yes, I should hand to me, and I lifted my own in response - then like that very much, and she nodded with something like remembered my glove - my glove with the lavender bows satisfaction. Then she made me another little bow, and we upon it, to match my pretty hat - and quickly drew it off and said good-night; and she closed the door and was gone.
    offered her my naked fingers. All at once she was the I stood quite still, facing the little 7, the hand-written card, gallant boy of the footlights again. She straightened her Miss Kitty Butler. I found myself unable to move from in back, made me a little bow, and raised my knuckles to her front of it - quite