"In you go," said Aggie, motioning to the bed.
"Wait," said Zoie impressively, "wait till I get my rose lights
on the pillow." She pulled the slender gold chain of her night
lamp; instantly the large white pillows were bathed in a warm
pink glow--she studied the effect very carefully, then added a
lingerie pillow to the two more formal ones, kicked off her
slippers and hopped into bed. One more glance at the pillows,
then she arranged the ribbons of her negligee to fall
"carelessly" outside the coverlet, threw one arm gracefully above
her head, half-closed her eyes, and sank languidly back against
her pillows.
"How's that?" she breathed faintly.
Controlling her impulse to smile, Aggie crossed to the
dressing-table with a business-like air and applied to Zoie's
pink cheeks a third coating of powder.
Zoie sat bolt upright and began to sneeze. "Aggie," she said, "I
just hate you when you act like that." But suddenly she was
seized with a new idea.
"I wonder," she mused as she looked across the room at the soft,
pink sofa bathed in firelight, "I wonder if I shouldn't look
better on that couch under those roses."
Aggie was very emphatic in her opinion to the contrary.
"Certainly not!" she said.
"Then," decided Zoie with a mischievous smile, "I'll get Alfred
to carry me to the couch. That way I can get my arms around his
neck.
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