"Well, we'll see. It's up to you, anyhow. I told you I was going to
test your character. That's why I put you where I did. I knew what
you'd be up against. Now the idea is to test you some more."
He paused an instant. This was a catch phrase of his: "the idea is."
He often used it. And when he said: "It is my habit," or "My way is,"
he spoke with the repressed yet bursting pride of the self-made man
who has suddenly been raised to a height almost beyond his early
dreams.
"I may change you into another department next week," he went on,
"where you'll have a better time and less work. What do you say to
_Gloves_?"
Win felt very stupid. "What ought I to say to Gloves?" she inquired
helplessly.
Then the great Mr. Meggison actually laughed. "Gee! You _are_ an
amateur, Miss Child. Why, the girls all think the Gloves are the pick
of the basket. What your London Gaiety is to actresses, that the glove
department is to our salesladies. It's called the marriage market.
Ladies' _and_ gents' gloves, you understand. Now do you see the
point?"
"I suppose I do," Win rather reluctantly confessed, faintly blushing.
"Some of the best lookers in our Gloves have married Fifth Avenue
swells.
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