Think I'd marry one of these rotten little clerks?" Miss Hinkle answered her own question with a scornful sniff."They can hardly make a living for themselves.And a man who amounts to anything, he wants a refined lady to help him on up, not a working girl.Of course, there're exceptions.But as a rule a girl in our position either has to stay single or marry beneath her--marry some mechanic or such like.Well, I ain't so lazy, or so crazy about being supported, that I'd sink to be cook and slop-carrier--and worse--for a carpenter or a bricklayer.Going out with the buyers--the gentlemanly ones--has spoiled my taste.I can't stand a coarse man--coarse dress and hands and manners.Can you?"Susan turned hastily away, so that her face was hidden from Miss Hinkle.
"I'll bet you wasn't married to a coarse man.""I'd rather not talk about myself," said Susan with an effort.
"It's not pleasant."
Her manner of checking Miss Hinkle's friendly curiosity did not give offense; it excited the experienced working woman's sympathy.She went on:
"Well, I feel sorry for any woman that has to work.Of course most women do--and at worse than anything in the stores and factories.As between being a drudge to some dirty common laborer like most women are, and working in a factory even, give me the factory.Yes, give me a job as a pot slinger even, low as that is.Oh, I _hate_ working people! I love refinement.Up to Murray's last night I sat there, eating my lobster and drinking my wine, and I pretended I was a lady--and, my, how happy I was!"The stockroom now opened.Susan, with the help of Miss Hinkle and the stock keeper, dressed in one of the tight-fitting satin slips that revealed every curve and line of her form, made every motion however slight, every breath she drew, a gesture of sensuousness.As she looked at herself in a long glass in one of the show-parlors, her face did not reflect the admiration frankly displayed upon the faces of the two other women.That satin slip seemed to have a moral quality, an immoral character.It made her feel naked--no, as if she were naked and being peeped at through a crack or keyhole.
"You'll soon get used to it," Miss Hinkle assured her."And you'll learn to show off the dresses and cloaks to the best advantage." She laughed her insinuating little laugh again, amused, cynical, reckless."You know, the buyers are men.
Gee, what awful jay things we work off on them, sometimes!
They can't see the dress for the figure.And you've got such a refined figure, Miss Sackville--the kind I'd be crazy about if I was a man.But I must say----" here she eyed herself in the glass complacently--"most men prefer a figure like mine.
Don't they, Miss Simmons?"
The stock keeper shook her fat shoulders in a gesture of indifferent disdain."They take whatever's handiest--that's _my_ experience."About half-past nine the first customer appeared--Mr.Gideon, it happened to be.He was making the rounds of the big wholesale houses in search of stock for the huge Chicago department store that paid him fifteen thousand a year and expenses.He had been contemptuous of the offerings of Jeffries and Jonas for the winter season, had praised with enthusiasm the models of their principal rival, Icklemeier, Schwartz and Company.They were undecided whether he was really thinking of deserting them or was feeling for lower prices.Mr.Jeffries bustled into the room where Susan stood waiting; his flat face quivered with excitement."Gid's come!"he said in a hoarse whisper."Everybody get busy.We'll try Miss Sackville on him."And he himself assisted while they tricked out Susan in an afternoon costume of pale gray, putting on her head a big pale gray hat with harmonizing feathers.The model was offered in all colors and also in a modified form that permitted its use for either afternoon or evening.Susan had received her instructions, so when she was dressed, she was ready to sweep into Gideon's presence with languid majesty.Jeffries' eyes glistened as he noted her walk."She looks as if she really was a lady!" exclaimed he."I wish I could make my daughters move around on their trotters like that."Gideon was enthroned in an easy chair, smoking a cigar.He was a spare man of perhaps forty-five, with no intention of abandoning the pretensions to youth for many a year.In dress he was as spick and span as a tailor at the trade's annual convention.But he had evidently been "going some" for several days; the sour, worn, haggard face rising above his elegantly fitting collar suggested a moth-eaten jaguar that has been for weeks on short rations or none.
"What's the matter?" he snapped, as the door began to open.
"I don't like to he kept waiting."
In swept Susan; and Jeffries, rubbing his thick hands, said fawningly, "But I think, Mr.Gideon, you'll say it was worth waiting for."Gideon's angry, arrogant eyes softened at first glimpse of Susan."Um!" he grunted, some such sound as the jaguar aforesaid would make when the first chunk of food hurtled through the bars and landed on his paws.He sat with cigar poised between his long white fingers while Susan walked up and down before him, displaying the dress at all angles, Jeffries expatiating upon it the while.
"Don't talk so damn much, Jeff!" he commanded with the insolence of a customer containing possibilities of large profit."I judge for myself.I'm not a damn fool.""I should say not," cried Jeffries, laughing the merchant's laugh for a customer's pleasantry."But I can't help talking about it, Gid, it's so lovely!"Jeffries' shrewd eyes leaped for joy when Gideon got up from his chair and, under pretense of examining the garment, investigated Susan's figure.As his gentle, insinuating hands traveled over her, his eyes sought hers."Excuse me," said Jeffries."I'll see that they get the other things ready."And out he went, winking at Mary Hinkle to follow him--an unnecessary gesture as she was already on her way to the door.
