This left Medora Phillips unscathed. "Tea puts on no paint," she observed,
and was lost in the press.
It need not be assumed that knowledge of Carolyn Thorpe's verse gained wide
currency through University circles, but there was a copy of the magazine
in the University library. Lemoyne saw it there. He scarcely knew whether
to be pleased or vexed. Finally he decided that there was safety in
numbers. If Cope really intended to go to that studio, it was just as well
that there should be an impassioned poetess in the background. And it was
just as well that Cope should know she was there. Lemoyne took a line not
unlike Mrs. Phillips' own.
"I only wish there were more of them," he declared, looking up from his
desk. "I'd like a lady barber for your head, a lady shoemaker for your
feet, a lady psychologist for your soul----"
"Stop it!" cried Cope. "I've had about all I can stand. If you want to live
in peace, as you sometimes say, do your share to keep the peace."
"You _are_ going to have another sitting?"
"I am. How can I get out of it?"
"You don't want to get out of it."
"Well, after all the attentions they've shown us----"
"Us? You.
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