WHITEWASH
of them. I am sure you would find them congenial—almost your equals in heart, mind, and charm."
His verbose sentences and elaborate compliments somehow became him, and the foreign accent that accompanied his words was a charm in itself. Philippa caught herself vaguely wishing that the handsome enthusiast were a matrimonial possibility. If only he had Morton's money and social position! Ah, well, it was all nonsense; foreigners, however fascinating, were never certainties.
He had risen restlessly and wandered to the window. He glanced out, but turned hastily.
"Mr. Conway is crossing the street. Coming here, I suppose," he said, bitterly. "Tell me, before we are interrupted, will you go with me on Monday to Madame Despard's studio, in the Carnegie—a little reunion of grands esprits, a glimpse of Bohemia?"
Her face lighted. "Yes, indeed, I shall love it, I know."
A ring at the door-bell announced the new arrival.
