“Amateur work!” he exclaimed. “Bah! What do amateurs know about pictures, especially young women? No! I cannot waste my time and money.”
“But you’ll not be wasting your money.” Norma felt like one speaking a piece. “I expect to pay you for them.”
“Put them down there on this table,” he replied rudely. “We shall see.”
“And now—” His voice took on a professional tone. “You are soldiers, is it not so?”
There came a murmured “Yes—yes.”
“Lady soldiers! Ha—ha—ha! This is delightful! And I am to take your pictures. No retouching. Is it not so?”
“That’s right.” It was Betty who spoke.
“Then you will not be very beautiful in these pictures.” He laughed again.
“They are for identification cards.” Norma said—a suggestion of irritation creeping into her voice. “Beauty doesn’t count. They must look like us, that’s all. They are to keep spies from pretending they belong to our group.”
“Spies? Ah! Is that so!” he said seriously. “Then they shall be very real indeed, these pictures.”