Seff arose and stood a moment, stooping to peer into her face. One hand he clasped around her right forearm and slid it up to her shoulder, evidently measuring its proportions. Then he tried the firmness of her busts.
Dolores did not like this, although she did not say so. She swallowed against a pressure in her throat and longed for her father as she had not longed hitherto. For the first time she lifted her eyes to his.
He flushed; in another moment removed his hands. He showed, however, to be pleased, that, from the eyes of the applicant, had looked the attribute which was the chief stipulation of his advertisement.
“You are not developed as you might be, but you may do better on that very account,” he said, his manner professional. “There’s a reason. I am sure we shall be good friends.”
“I hope that I’ll be able to suit you.”
“No doubt of that.”
“I—I mean that I shall be able to do the work.”
“No doubt of that,” he repeated.
After helping her back into the serge coat, he stood off in general contemplation of her, a pucker between his brows.
“Now, I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, Dolores, but you’ll have to dress better right from the start. You don’t care if I get down to business? Your salary will be twenty-five dollars a week for the present. Later, if you fulfill my expectations and don’t dun me, I’ll probably raise it. I am going to pay you a week in advance and make you an expense allowance of one hundred dollars. I of course pay for extra clothes I order. I want you to go out and make two purchases—first, one full-sized lunch, of which you look in need; second, a new outfit. I shall not dictate that your suit be gray, the color we affect in the store. But I advise that it be quite plain, something along the lines of what you have on, only of better material. Don’t scrimp in the quality, will you?”