|
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling
and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached
below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her.
And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once
she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear
or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown
hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant
sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door
and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair
Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and
collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white,
chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's
have a sight at the looks of it." |
