Rosalind had no trouble with her hair: a touch or two, a pin stuck
here, a curl arranged there, and the arrangement became perfect-- the
glistening mass lay in natural waves over the small, graceful head.
Rosalind's hair arranged to her satisfaction, she put on her lovely
white dress. She stood before her long glass, a white-robed little
figure, smiles round her lips, a sweet, bright color in her cheeks, a
dewy look in her baby-blue eyes. Rosalind's toilet was all but
finished; she stood before her glass now and hesitated. Should she go
to the Elliot-Smiths' as she was or should she give the last finishing
touch to render herself perfect? Should she wear her beautiful coral
ornaments?
The coral was now her own, paid for to the uttermost farthing; Polly
Singleton could not come up to Rosalind now and disgrace her in public
by demanding her coral back again. The coral was no longer Polly's; it
was Rosalind's. The debt was cleared off; the exquisite ornaments were
her own. Unlocking a drawer in her bureau, she took out a case, which
contained her treasures; she touched the spring of the case, opened it
and looked at them lovingly. The necklace, the bracelets, the earings
and pins for the hair looked beautiful on their velvet pillow.
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