"I mean that people say he was rather horrid abroad. Some women don't mind that sort of thing, but I do." "Horrid? How?" "He went about Europe with unpleasant people. He had too much money--and that is ruinous for a boy. I hate to disillusion you, but for several years people have been gossipping about Duane Mallett's exploits abroad; and they are not savoury." "What were they? I am old enough to know." "I don't propose to tell you. He was notoriously wild. There were scandals. Hush! here comes Scott." "For Heaven's sake, pinch some colour into your cheeks!" exclaimed her brother; "we're not going to a wake!" And Kathleen said anxiously: "Your gown is perfection, dear; are you a trifle tired? You do look pale." "Tired?" repeated Geraldine--"not in the least, dearest.... If I seem not to be excited, I really am, internally; but perhaps I haven't learned how to show it.... Don't I look well? I was so preoccupied with my gown in the mirror that I forgot to examine my face." Mrs. Severn kissed her. "You and your gown are charming. Come, we are late, and that isn't permitted to debutantes." * * * * * It was Mrs. Magnelius Grandcourt who was giving the first dinner and dance for Geraldine Seagrave. In the cloak-room she encountered some very animated women of the younger married set, who spoke to her amiably, particularly a Mrs. Dysart, who said she knew Duane Mallett, and who was so friendly that a bit of colour warmed Geraldine's pallid cheeks and still remained there when, a few minutes later, she saluted her heavily jewelled hostess and recognised in her the fat fore-and-aft lady of the day before. Mrs. Magnelius Grandcourt, glittering like a South American scarab, detained her with the smallest and chubbiest hands she had ever seen inside of gloves. "My dear, you look ghastly," said her hostess. "You're probably scared to death. This is my son, Delancy, who is going to take you in, and I'm wondering about you, because Delancy doesn't get on with debutantes, but that can't be helped. If he's pig enough not to talk to you, it wouldn't surprise me--and it's just as well, too, for if he likes anybody he compromises them, but it's no use your ever liking a Grandcourt, for all the men make rotten husbands--I'm glad Rosalie Dysart threw him over for poor Jack Dysart; it saved her a divorce! I'd get one if I could; so would Magnelius. My husband was a judge once, but he resigned because he couldn't send people up for the things he was doing himself." Mrs. Grandcourt, still gabbling away, turned to greet new arrivals, merely switching to another subject without interrupting her steady stream of outrageous talk. She was celebrated for it--and for nothing else. Geraldine, bewildered and a little horrified, looked at her billowy, bediamonded hostess, then at young Delancy Grandcourt, who, not perceptibly abashed by his mother's left-handed compliments, lounged beside her, apparently on the verge of a yawn.