The ordeal was over at last. The dancer was pleased. She ordered another gown. Harmony, behind the curtain, slipped out of the dress and into her own shabby frock. On the other side of the curtain the dancer was talking. Her voice was loud, but rather agreeable. She smoked a cigarette. Scraps of chatter came to Harmony, and once a laugh.
"That is too pink--something more delicate."
"Here is a shade; hold it to your cheek."
"I am a bad color. I did not sleep last night."
"Still no news, Fraulein?"
"None. He has disappeared utterly. That isn't so bad, is it? I could use more rouge."
"It is being much worn. It is strange, is it not, that a child could be stolen from the hospital and leave no sign!"
The dancer laughed a mirthless laugh. Her voice changed, became nasal, full of venom.
"Oh, they know well enough," she snapped. "Those nurses know, and there's a pig of a red-bearded doctor--I'd like to poison him. Separating mother and child! I'm going to find him, if only to show them they are not so smart after all."
In her anger she had lapsed into English. Harmony, behind her curtain, had clutched at her heart. Jimmy's mother!