“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. I got three pounds, and there’s three on my watch. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was.
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