WHITEWASH
equivocation and delay; this businesslike alertness was unsettling.
"In half an hour, then?" he inquired, with a new note of anxiety in his voice.
"The sooner the better," came the unwavering reply. And he hung up the receiver with a sensation of dread.
How could she be so sure of herself? How dared she face him with her trumped-up story? Surely there must be some appearance, some foundation—perfectly innocent—but making misinterpretation possible.
No! He recalled vividly Philippa's upturned, beseeching eyes, and her tearful, childish accent as she had turned to him. "Morton, if you love me, don't give them the satisfaction of listening. You know it isn't true!"
Of course he knew it wasn't true, poor, bewildered little girl! Feeling again all his eager animosity, he went out and called a passing hansom.
As he drove up Fifth Avenue, he hardened his heart and steeled his nerves. This clashing of feminine weapons and armor was new and
