Cope felt a half-angry tremor run through him. He was none the less
perturbed because Medora Phillips meant obviously no offense. Hortense and
Carolyn were viewed as but her delegates; they were doing for her what she
would have been glad to be able to do for herself. Clearly, in her mind,
there was not to be another Amy.
Well, that was something, he thought. He laughed uneasily, and gave the
enthusiastic Mrs. Ryder a few details of the art-world (as she called it),
--details which she would not be denied.
"I must call on dear Hortense, some afternoon," she said.
"Do," returned Hortense's aunt. "And mention the place. Let's keep the dear
girl as busy as possible."
"If it were only photographs...." submitted Mrs. Ryder.
"That's a career too," Mrs. Phillips acknowledged.
They all drifted out into the larger room. Mrs. Ryder left them,--perhaps
to distribute her small change of art and literature through the crowd.
"You're not forgetting Hortense?" Mrs. Phillips herself said, before
leaving him.
"By no means," Cope replied.
"I hear you didn't make much of a start."
"We had tea," returned Cope, with satirical intention.
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