All the same, when at her destination
Rose had paid him, he came down, voluntarily from the box--voluntarily
but with a sort of reluctance--and carried the form up to her room for
her.
Also, rather incredibly, he refused an extra quarter she had ready for
him when he had completed this service. "Just to show no ill feelings,"
he said, and he told her where his stand was and gave himself a little
recommendation: "Honest and reliable."
Here in her close little room, the suggestion of an alcoholic basis for
this generosity obtruded itself, but Rose didn't care. She wished him a
merry Christmas and waved him off with a smile.
It was now after eight o'clock. Rehearsal was at eight-thirty and she
had had nothing to eat since noon. But she stole the time, nevertheless,
to tear the wrappings off her "form" and gaze on its respectable
nakedness for two or three minutes with a contemplative eye. Then,
reluctantly--it was the first time she had left that room with
reluctance--she turned out the light and hurried off to the little
lunch-room that lay on the way to the dance-hall.
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