And if the boss comes in
here and finds me--"
Quite suddenly she put her head down on the back of the chair and
began to cry. He was frightfully distressed. He poured some
aromatic ammonia into a medicine glass and picking up her limp hand,
closed her fingers around it.
"Drink that," he ordered.
She shook her head.
"I'm not sick," she said. "I'm only a fool."
"If that fellow said anything over the telephone--!"
She looked up drearily.
"It wasn't him. He doesn't matter. It's just--I got to hating
myself." She stood up and carefully dabbed her eyes. "Heavens, I
must be a sight. Now don't you get to thinking things, Mr. Cameron.
Girls can't go out and fight off a temper, or get full and sleep it
off. So they cry."
Some time later he glanced out at her. She was standing before the
little mirror above the chewing gum, carefully rubbing her cheeks
with a small red pad. After that she reached into the show case,
got out a lip pencil and touched her lips.
"You're pretty enough without all that, Miss Edith."
"You mind your own business," she retorted acidly.
CHAPTER VIII
Lily had known Alston Denslow most of her life.
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