WHITEWASH
seem some great pale-toned Parma violet in its setting of leaves.
"Do pour yourself some tea, dear girl," she murmured. "I'm too lazy to move, or I'd do it for you; besides, I am searching your long-lost countenance for the ravages of time, and I can't find one—not a ravage."
Victoria, sitting opposite, raised her gray eyes, in which a gleam of mischief sparkled. "Be sure you tell every one else that," she laughed.
Philippa squirmed. She had been mentally rehearsing a speech to her next interested caller. "The poor, dear Claudel girl is terribly haggard. I fear she has been trying to live on nothing over there. You know how Americans do." It was as if the "poor dear" had suddenly taken a peep at her brains. So, quickly assuming her sweetest tone of grieving affection, she ejaculated, "Oh, Vic! After all the years of our ideal friendship, how could you infer such a thing!"
"You are teased as easily as ever, I see," was all the answer she received, as the returned prodigal brushed cake crumbs from her well fitting
