WHITEWASH
another week and he would have dropped from this crude sphere as completely as if he had never existed—to reincarnate himself under another name, in another country, and build up an excellent reputation that would shield the sources of his wealth, if all went well.
Philippa rose, and began the various adjustments of hairpins and garments, always premonitory of her going forth.
"Must you go now?" he asked. "I won't tease; you know best—but must you?"
She nodded, almost sadly.
He bowed his head in acquiescence to the inevitable, and rang the bell for the waiter. Hastily settling his bill, he turned to her once more. She was carefully prodding her hat with a topaz-headed pin, as she studied her face in the glass. He crossed over and stood beside her. She thrilled with his presence.
"You are so beautiful!" he whispered. "May I?" And before she could protest he folded her in his arms, turned her flushed face to his, and kissed her on the mouth.
For an instant she yielded to his arm, resting
