"You can always take my horse," Mrs. Phillips persisted, her eyebrows contracting as they had over the money question.
A look of what some day might become contempt shadowed the girl's face. She bowed to the architect in her stiff way which made him understand that it was no recommendation to her favor to be her mother's friend, and walked across the room with a dignity beyond the older woman's power.
"She is at the difficult age," the mother murmured.
"She is growing beautiful!" Jackson exclaimed.
"I hope so," Mrs. Phillips answered composedly. "When can you let me see the sketches?"
"In two or three days."
"Won't you dine with us next Wednesday, then?"
She seemed to have arranged every detail of the transaction with accuracy and care.