Instantly she knew what her pose ought to be. Not prim stiffness, not
suspicious maidenly dignity, but just smiling civility, a recognition
of past slight acquaintance. This would do for the beginning. This
must surely show him that the tactics Ena credited him with were
useless here.
"Have you? How nice of you to say so," she braced herself to reply
with gayest indifference. "Well, I've been in this store for--a long
time, migrating from one department to another and learning the
business. I'm quite a fair saleswoman now, I assure you. Are you going
to buy a cloak? Because, if not--this is a busy morning."
"Yes, I'll buy one as a present for my mother," said Peter. "I should
like you to choose her something. I described her to you once, but I
suppose you've forgotten. She's little, and rather plump, and has
beautiful white hair and a rosy complexion. But, Miss Child, I want to
talk to you, not about cloaks, about yourself. I've asked permission,
and they know who I am, and it's all right. I said you and my sister
were friends. That's true, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes!"
"I believed _we_ were friends once. And we were, too. The more I've
thought of it, the surer I've been.
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