WHITEWASH
will recall your Iliad, my lady, so put that in your cigarette and smoke it."
"You are incorrigible," said Victoria, freeing her captive. "I'm going—I'll be home early, though. Morton is going driving with somebody, he told me, so we won't linger over the coffee."
Pushing in her rebellious hairpins with her familiar gesture, she found her hat and gloves, smoothed herself down, and waved a final good-by.
Twenty minutes later she was in sight of the low building situated in the centre of the Park. Morton was waiting for her, wandering up and down in the checkered light and shade under the wistaria arbor now bare and gray. His face lighted with affectionate greeting as he recognized the swing of her strong young body and the free stride of her walk.
"Hello, Empress of India, Queen of the Isles! I hope you re as hungry as I am."
She held out her hand in frank delight at his presence.
"Starved—and starving for a good old-fashioned talk with you, too." She gave his shoulder
