They would turn as if to find
something "in stock," stoop quickly, taking advantage of the crowd
behind the counters, snatch out of their stockings tiny mirrors and
bags of powder or rouge, and "fix themselves," while their anxious
customers supposed they were diving for a toy. These were the girls
who kept their own perfumed soap and scent bottles in their lockers
and could afford becoming hats, whether or no they had money to buy
new underclothes and stockings when the old ones gave out.
Win, however, had neither experience enough nor desire to find time
for personal matters. She gave her whole soul to her work and wore
that pleasant Christmas smile which floorwalkers wish to see on
salesladies' faces. But her smile was only skin deep. She had never
liked her sister women less--cross, silly, snapping, inconsiderate
things, strutting and pushing about in skins and plumes of animals far
more agreeable and beautiful than themselves! Dangling all over with
poor little heads of dead creatures, just as if they were moving
butcher shops, and apparently without a sense of humour to tell them
what idiots they looked.
Yes, idiots! That was the word.
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