Chapter XIX
At eight o'clock Dot was awake. She reached over to the table where her pocketbook lay. Powder, rouge, and lipstick in quick succession. You couldn't tell, she might get a visitor even at this hour. She ran the comb through her hair swiftly. Pretty good now. Let the world come!
The woman on the next bed stared at her. "Have a bad time?" she asked.
"Dot's brows wrinkled thoughtfully. "Not bad," she said. "Of course it hurts, but it ain't what it's supposed to be. Gee, I thought it'd be hell. No, it ain't bad. It's kind of—kind of like a cramp!"
