WHITEWASH
"She is in the drawing-room—go right in. I know she will wish to see you."
"Is that you, Ethel, dear?" Mrs. Ford's voice sounded mellow through the portiėres. "Come in; poor Philippa is very ill to-day, but I fancy she will insist on seeing you."
The slim figure of the girl disappeared between the curtains, and Morton heard the hostess's resounding kiss, as she drew the fly into her parlor, and began diligently spinning the web of poor Philippa's innocent heart-break about her willing listener.
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