Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"I wonder if it's draped in the back," she said to herself, and picked
it up. It was draped in the back--bewitchingly. She held it at arm's
length, turning it this way and that. Then, as though obeying some
powerful force she could not resist, Julia plunged her arms into the
satin of the sleeves and brought the great soft revers up about her
throat. The great, gorgeous, shimmering thing completely hid her grubby
little black gown. She stepped to the mirror and stood surveying herself
in a sort of ecstasy. Her cheeks glowed rose-pink against the dark fur,
as she had known they would. Her lovely little head, with its coils of
black hair, rose flowerlike from the clinging garment. She was still
standing there, lips parted, eyes wide with delight, when the door
opened and closed--and Venner, of two-twenty-three, strode into the
room.
"You little beauty!" exclaimed Two-twenty-three.
Julia had wheeled about. She stood staring at him, eyes and lips wide
with fright now. One hand clutched the fur at her breast.
"Why, what--" she gasped.
Two-twenty-three laughed.
"I knew I'd find you here. I made an excuse to come up. Old Nutcracker
Face in the hall thinks I went to my own room." He took two quick steps
forward. "You raving little Cinderella beauty, you!"--And he gathered
Julia, coat and all, into his arms.
"Let me go!" panted Julia, fighting with all the strength of her young
arms. "Let me go!"
"You'll have coats like this," Two-twenty-three was saying in her
ear--"a dozen of them! And dresses too; and laces and furs! You'll be
ten times the beauty you are now! And that's saying something. Listen!
You meet me to-morrow--"
There came a ring--sudden and startling--from the telephone on the wall
near the door. The man uttered something and turned. Julia pushed him
away, loosened the coat with fingers that shook and dropped it to the
floor. It lay in a shimmering circle about the tired feet in their worn,
cracked boots. And one foot was raised suddenly and kicked the silken
garment into a heap.
The telephone bell sounded again. Venner, of two-twenty-three, plunged
his hand into his pocket, took out something and pressed it in Julia's
palm, shutting her fingers over it. Julia did not need to open them and
look to see--she knew by the feel of the crumpled paper, stiff and
crackling. He was making for the door, with some last instructions that
she did not hear, before she spoke. The telephone bell had stopped its
insistent ringing.
Julia raised her arm and hurled at him with all her might the
yellow-backed paper he had thrust in her hand.
"I'll--I'll get my man to whip you for this!" she panted. "Jo'll pull
those eyelashes of yours out and use 'em for couplings. You miserable
little--"
The outside door opened again, striking Two-twenty-three squarely in the
back. He crumpled up against the wall with an oath.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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