Again forgetfulness fell upon her and her thoughts grew into words.
"He was surely right concerning my lower lip," she said, speaking to herself. Then without the least apparent relevance, "He had been smoking." Again her words broke her revery, and she took up the unfinished braid of hair. When she did so, she caught a glimpse of her arm which was as perfectly rounded as the fairest marble of Phidias. She stretched the arm to its full length that the mirror might reflect its entire beauty. Again she thought aloud: "I wish he could see my arm. Perhaps some day—" But the words ceased, and in their place came a flush that spread from her hair to her full white throat, and she quickly turned the mirror away so that even it should not behold her beauty.
You see after all is told Dorothy was modest.
She finished her toilet without the aid of her mirror; but before she extinguished the candle she stole one more fleeting glance at its polished surface, and again came the thought, "Perhaps some day—" Then she covered the candle, and amid enfolding darkness lay down beside Madge, full of thoughts and sensations that made her tremble; for they were strange to her, and she knew not what they meant.
Dorothy thought that Madge was asleep, but after a few minutes the latter said:—
"Tell me, Dorothy, who was on fire?"
"Who was on fire?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "What do you mean, Madge?"
"I hope they have not been trying to burn any one," said Madge.
"What do you mean?" again asked Dorothy.
"You said 'He had been smoking,'" responded Madge.