sway like that one? Painfully, with many bumps and much difficulty, I finally succeeded in getting fully clothed, and sat down on a box in a corner to make room for other people.
The unknown, who had occupied the berth below mine, was the last to get up. I wondered if I looked quite such a wreck as she did. I guess no woman looks her best when she first gets out of bed in the morning, in spite of all the poets say. This woman certainly didn't, and she evidently knew it. She scrambled into her clothes in real lightning speed. The improvement in her when she was fully dressed was wonderful. I wondered who she was. Evidently neither Mrs. Croydon nor Berengaria knew her. I had scarcely seen her full face until she sat down opposite me. Then I knew that I had seen her before. But where? For a moment I was puzzled, but only for a moment. Then I recognised her. It was Fluffy. But a Fluffy so changed that it was not surprising I had not recognised her straight away at first sight.
The old Fluffy was gone. There was hardly a vestige of her left. The framework was the same, but, after all, it isn't the framework that matters most to a woman with determination. So long as you've got a head with eyes and nose and mouth, and a skin to cover it, you can rig it out pretty much as you like. A quantity of somebody else's hair and teeth, and plenty of powder and paint work wonders. It was only about ten days before that I had seen Fluffy being married in Bombay in all the glory of her war-paint, fully
