Then, too, my fingers have many other things to do.
Last night's party was a great success. During most of the day I was
telephoning messages, sending notes of invitations, and helping Mrs.
Mundy with the preparation of certain substantial refreshments which
must be abundant; and when at last I stood ready to receive my guests
a thrill I had long thought dead became alive again. At other
parties I knew what to expect. At this one I didn't.
Lucy Hobbs, resplendent in a green silk, lace-trimmed dress, was
dashingly handsome with her carefully curled hair and naturally
colored cheeks; and her big, black eyes missed no detail of my
holly-bedecked and brightly lighted rooms. It was difficult to
associate her with the girl in shabby clothes who hurried through the
streets in the dark of early mornings, and whose days were spent in a
factory, year in and year out; and yet the factory had left its
imprint in a shyness that was new to one whose usual role was that of
boss, and at first she was ill at ease.
"You must help me, Lucy." I spoke hurriedly and in an undertone.
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