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She did
this methodically whenever opportunity offered, but without any great
conviction.
Dolly, though she looked a bit hollow-eyed and much more in need of rest
than Rose (for she hadn't any stamina at all. She was an
under-nourished, and probably anemic little thing, and was always
train-sick when their jumps began too early in the morning), went
straight ahead with her toilet, tried to correct her pallor with a
little too much rouge, and with the glaring falsehood that it was
clearing up, put on the pathetic little fifteen-dollar suit that she
religiously guarded for occasions.
She was very fidgety, a little bit furtive, and elaborately over-casual
about all this; a fact to which Rose was, also a little artificially,
oblivious.
Their partnership had not proved, from Dolly's point of view, at any
rate, an unqualified success. They'd not been on the road three days
before she'd begun to wonder whether she hadn't been hasty in the
selection of her chum. Doris Dane was a very magnificent person, of
course.


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