They were few, and more than a little
out of fashion, but one of them, though far from gay, was bright and
stylish--a light blue frock with a high collar and some white lace over
the bosom.
I remember wondering why I had not thought of pawning it during the
week, when I had had so much need of money, and then being glad that I
had not done so.
It was thin and light, being the dress I had worn on the day I first
came to the East End, carrying my baby to Ilford, when the weather was
warm which now was cold; but I paid no heed to that, thinking only that
it was my best and most attractive.
After I had put it on and glanced at myself in my little swinging
looking-glass I was pleased, but I saw at the same time that my face was
deadly pale, and that made me think of some bottles and cardboard boxes
which lay in the pockets of my trunk.
I knew what they contained--the remains of the cosmetics which I had
bought in Cairo in the foolish days when I was trying to make my husband
love me. Never since then had I looked at them, but now I took them out
(with a hare's foot and some pads and brushes) and began to paint my
pale face--reddening my cracked and colourless lips and powdering out
the dark rings under my eyes.
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