herself
luxuriously round and round before the too-small looking-glass. There
was utter satisfaction in each gesture of that whole operation, as
if her spirit, long starved, were having a good meal. In this rapt
contemplation of herself, all childish vanity and expectancy, and all
that wonderful quality found in simple unspiritual natures of delighting
in the present moment, were perfectly displayed. So, motionless, with
her hair loose on her neck, she was like one of those half-hours of
Spring that have lost their restlessness and are content just to be.

Presently, however, as though suddenly remembering that her happiness
was not utterly complete, she went to a drawer, took out a packet of
pear-drops, and put one in her mouth.

The sun, near to setting, had found its way through a hole in the blind,
and touched her neck. She turned as though she had received a kiss, and,
raising a corner of the blind, peered out. The pear-tree, which, to the
annoyance of its proprietor, was placed so close to the back court of
this low-class house as almost to seem to belong to it, was bathed in
slanting sunlight. No tree in all the world could have looked more fair
than it did just then in its garb of gilded bloom. With her hand up to
her bare neck, and her cheeks indrawn from sucking the sweet, the little
model fixed her eyes on the tree. Her expression did not change; she
showed no signs of admiration. Her gaze passed on to the back windows
of the house that really owned the pear-tree, spying out whether anyone
could see her--hoping, perhaps, someone would see her while she was
feeling so nice and new. Then, dropping the blind, she went back to the
glass and began to pin her hair up. When this was done she stood for
a long minute looking at her old brown skirt and blouse, hesitating to
defile her new-found purity. At last she put them on and drew up the
blind. The sunlight had passed off the pear-tree; its bloom was now
white, and almost as still as snow. The little model put another sweet
into her mouth, and producing from her pocket an ancient leather purse,
counted out her money. Evidently discovering that it was no more than
she expected, she sighed, and rummaged out of a top drawer an old
illustrated magazine.

She sat down on the bed, and, turning the leaves rapidly till she
reached a certain page, rested the paper in her lap. Her eyes were fixed
on a photograph in the left-hand corner-one of those effigies of writers
th