WHITEWASH
and bring about the proposal she had been holding off with consummate skill for the past month. Engagements entailed obligations, but Morton Conway was too good a catch to lose, and Philippa felt instinctively that the only danger that menaced her supremacy was personified before her.
All this passed in a brain flash, with the swiftness and certainty of a lightning-calculator, while she idly punched the pillows into more alluring curves, and her society self supplied a small-talk item.
"Tilly Genadet is to be married next week; are you going to her wedding?"
"I think so," Miss Claudel replied, as she rose to her feet, and with various facial contortions proceeded to readjust her veil.
"You're not leaving now, are you, dear?" and Philippa uncurled herself. "It's only five o'clock."
"Yes, I'm off. Ethel Tracy sent a note over this morning asking me to drop in to dinner—just the family, you know. Good-bye. Come over to the studio any time. I'm sharing Mrs. Testly
