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The Mystery of Mary by Grace Livingston Hill
page 64 of 130 (49%)
lingered she listened.

"Wait a minute, Miss," said the flashy woman. "You needn't feel bad about
having references. Everybody isn't so particular. You come with me, and
I'll put you in the way of earning more than you can ever get as a
waitress. You weren't cut out for work, any way, with that face and voice.
I've been watching you. You were meant for a lady. You need to be dressed
up, and you'll be a real pretty girl----"

As she talked, she had come nearer, and now she leaned over and whispered
so that the timid woman, who was beginning dimly to perceive what manner
of creature this other woman was, could not hear.

But the girl stepped back with sudden energy and flashing eyes, shaking
off the be-ringed hand that had grasped her shoulder.

"Don't you dare to speak to me!" she said in a loud, clear voice. "Don't
you dare to touch me! You are a wicked woman! If you touch me again, I
will go in there and tell all those women how you have insulted me!"

"Oh, well, if you're a saint, starve!" hissed the woman.

"I should rather starve ten thousand times than take help from you," said
the girl, and her clear, horrified eyes seemed to burn into the woman's
evil face. She turned and slid away, like the wily old serpent that she
was.

Down the stairs like lightning sped the girl, her head up in pride and
horror, her eyes still flashing. And down the stairs after her sped the
little, anxious woman, panting and breathless, determined to keep her in
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