"But I haven't a veil," said Susan.
"I've got mine with me—pinned to my garter. I haven't been home since this afternoon." And Maud produced it.
"But I can't wear a veil at night," objected Susan.
"Why not?" said Maud. "Lots of the girls do. A veil's a dandy hider. Besides, even where a girl's got nothing to hide and has a face that's all to the good, still it's not a bad idea to wear a veil. Men like what they can't see. One of the ugliest girls I know makes a lot of money—all with her veil. She fixes up her figure something grand. Then she puts on that veil—one of the kind you think you can see a face through but you really can't. And she never lifts it till the 'come on' has given up his cash. Then——" Maud laughed. "Gee, but she has had some hot run-ins after she hoists her curtain!"
"Why don't you wear a veil all the time?" asked Susan.
Maud tossed her head. "What do you take me for? I've got too good an opinion of my looks for that."
Susan put on the veil. It was not of the kind that is a disguise. Still, diaphanous though it seemed, it concealed astonishingly the swelling in Susan's face. Obviously, then, it must at least haze the features, would do something toward blurring the marks that go to make identity.
"I shall always wear a veil," said Susan.
"Oh, I don't know," deprecated Maud. "I think you're quite pretty—though a little too proper and serious looking to suit some tastes."
Susan had removed veil and hat, was letting down her hair.