WHITEWASH
"Indeed!" Mrs. Pendington Ford's voice was not very cordial. "Where is she stopping?"
"She is sharing Mrs. Testly Durham's suite at the Carnegie."
"The writer?"
"Yes, Aunt Lucy. They are very intimate friends."
Victoria's stock went up six points, and the drum-major sipped her tea. "We must have them to dinner sometime, Philippa. Miss Claudel is an old friend of yours, is she not, Mr. Conway?"
"Since we were children," Morton replied, glad to have a direct question to answer, and feeling unable to cope with general conversation.
"I remember her mother," Mrs. Ford went on, "Miss Graves, of Philadelphia, a delightful girl. Her marriage to Mr. Claudel was considered quite a brilliant one, but unluckily, he was more of a scholar than a man of business—lost money constantly. It was really fortunate he died early, or the family would have been quite impoverished. As it was, the children and Victoria will only have barely enough to live on."
