Now, with the immense but impersonal "backing" of Peter Rolls, Sr.'s,
great shop, she had the Bakst inspiration and the tingling ambition to
set up (in a very small way) as a rival to Nadine.
"I beg your pardon," she stammered to Miss Stein, and hastened on as a
fierce, astonished look was fastened upon her from under a black cloud
of stormy brow. "I--I hope you'll excuse my interrupting, but I've
been a model of Nadine's, and--and I have an idea, if you'll allow
me--I mean, you don't seem to like these things we have to sell. I
believe we could make something of them if we hurried."
All through she had the feeling that if she could not hold Miss
Stein's eyes until she had compelled interest, hope was lost. She put
her whole self into the effort to hold the eyes, and she held them,
talking fast, pouring the magnetic force of her enthusiasm into the
angry, unhappy soul of the other.
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Stein, abruptly taking the sharp,
judicial air of the business woman. Half resentful, half contemptuous,
she could not afford to let slip the shadow of a chance.
"I'll show you, if I may," said Win.
She, the outsider, the intruder, suddenly dominated the situation.
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