''
They were in Mrs. Belloc's comfortable sitting-room
now, and she was smoking a cigarette and regarding
Mildred with an expression of delight that was most
flattering. Said Mildred:
``Your hair does look well. It's thicker--isn't it?''
``Think so?'' said Mrs. Belloc. ``It ought to be,
with all the time and money I've spent on it. My, how
New York does set a woman to repairing and fixing up.
Nothing artificial goes here. It mustn't be paint and
plumpers and pads, but the real teeth. Why, I've had
four real teeth set in as if they were rooted--and my
hips toned down. You may remember what heavy legs
I had--piano-legs. Look at 'em now.'' Mrs. Belloc
drew the wrapper to her knee and exposed in a pale-
blue silk stocking a thin and comely calf.
``You HAVE been busy!'' said Mildred.
``That's only a little part. I started to tell you about
the hair. It was getting gray--not in a nice, pretty
way, all over, but in spots and streaks. Nothing else
makes a woman look so ragged and dingy and old as
spotted, streaky gray hair.
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