"
"I'm as well as ever, thank you," said Win.
Stupid of her, wanting to cry again just because people were paying
her compliments! But perhaps she hadn't quite got over last night and
not sleeping at all. And then Sadie's letter. Things had piled on top
of each other, but she mustn't let herself go to pieces. She must keep
her wits and think--think--think how to get at Sadie and what to do
for her.
Dr. Marlow had covered Win's fingers with something he called
"newskin," since it would not do for a "saleslady" to disgust
customers by serving them with bandaged hands. It was like a
transparent varnish and made her nails shine as brightly as those of
the vainest girls who spent all their spare time in polishing. But the
redness showed through, as if her hands were horribly chapped. She saw
a lady who had asked her to try on a white lace evening coat staring
at them.
"What's the matter with your hands?" The question came sharply.
"I scalded them a little this morning," Win explained.
"Oh! I'm glad it isn't a _disease."_
The girl blushed faintly, ashamed, glanced down at the offending pink
fingers, and turning slowly round to display the cloak, suddenly
looked up into the eyes of Peter Rolls.
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