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 belaced and bejewelled gray brocade of her tea-gown.

"My dearest girl!" she exclaimed, "are you going to stay to dinner? I'm delighted. You are so good to think of our mourning and how housed we are."

Philippa embraced her friend rapturously. "How sweet you do look! These grays and blacks are so becoming. You ought to kill off an uncle every few months."

"You dreadful girl!" smiled Mrs. Denison.

"But I'm not going to dine with you to-night, dear," Philippa continued, "for I want to dine at a love of a little Bohemian restaurant—oh, it's quite proper—with a party, you know, but Aunt Lucy would't hear of it, you see. So I thought you might let me telephone from here, and tell her I was dining with you—won't you, dear? Auntie is such a stickler for etiquette, and I can't make her understand that everybody nice is going to such places now."

"Why, of course," Mrs. Denison volunteered, completely deceived by the excuse. "I'll telephone to Mrs. Ford myself; that will be better 141