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e boast she had made, that with "nothing but a few rags and a Bakst inspiration" she could put together a gorgeous costume for a fancy-dress ball. "When you want to set up for a rival to Nadine, I'll back you," Peter had retorted, and they had both laughed. Now, with the immense but impersonal "backing" of Peter Rolls, Sr.'s, great shop, she had the Bakst inspiration and the tingling ambition to set up (in a very small way) as a rival to Nadine. "I beg your pardon," she stammered to Miss Stein, and hastened on as a fierce, astonished look was fastened upon her from under a black cloud of stormy brow. "I--I hope you'll excuse my interrupting, but I've been a model of Nadine's, and--and I have an idea, if you'll allow me--I mean, you don't seem to like these things we have to sell. I believe we could make something of them if we hurried." All through she had the feeling that if she could not hold Miss Stein's eyes until she had compelled interest, hope was lost. She put her whole self into the effort to hold the eyes, and she held them, talking fast, pouring the magnetic force of her enthusiasm into the angry, unhappy soul of the other. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Stein, abruptly taking the sharp, judicial air of the business woman. Half resentful, half contemptuous, she could not afford to let slip the shadow of a chance. "I'll show you, if I may," said Win. She, the outsider, the intruder, suddenly dominated the situation. The others, even Miss Stein herself, gave way before the Effect in black as it came close to one of the counters and with quick, decided touches began manipulating those blouses, sashes, and ladies' fancy neckwear which the Queen of England could not sell at a charity bazaar. A box of steel pins of assorted sizes lay on a cleared corner of the counter which Win had approached. It had been brought, perhaps, for the pinning of labels onto the newly repriced stock. Win took a purple sash and draped it round the waistline of a dull-looking, sky-blue blouse. Quickly the draping was coaxed into shape and firmly held with pins. Then under the collar was fastened a crimson bow ("ladies' fancy neckwear!") which had been hideous in itself, but suddenly became beautiful as a butterfly alighting on a flower. "My!" exclaimed the anemic girl, and glanced cautiously from under her eyelids to see whether approval or disgust were the popular line to take. But Miss Stein--still resentful, and
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