WHITEWASH
her, stairs loomed upward, with an obsequious waiter bowing on the landing. A door to the right gave a glimpse of the main dining-room. It stood ajar, and, annoyed at the oversight, she turned her face away, and fled up the stairs. The floor above showed another narrow hall, where busy servants ran to and fro. To Philippa it was all evil and mysterious, and filled her with delighted trepidation. The sound of smothered laughter, the faint chink of glasses and plates, the sight of champagne bottles cooling in the silver-plated buckets on the floor,—all impressed her with a sense of delicious naughtiness. The obsequious waiter ushered them into a tiny room, and discreetly closed the door.
Philippa looked about her with interest. Before her stood a table, neatly set for two, adorned with a scanty bunch of carnations. Everything was worn. The mirror was scratched, the velvet of the upholstery showed the nap, the carpet was dulled by the frequent upsetting of viands. The air was hot, the only ventilation being a small electric fan, now motionless, fixed in one corner near the lights. A room attractive and repellent
