“They ’phoned the club and managed to locate Mr. Benton. He called his attorney. There are certain arrangements to be made and then he will bring Howard home.” In her dazed consciousness it had already occurred to Marjorie to wonder where Hugh was, and she had had an added pang when she had realized what all this would mean to him. She would so have tried to spare him. So he already knew! And he had not even let her know, come to her, or sent to her in his trouble. No—instead it had been this—this other woman he had— Bitterness welled to take the place of pity. And that bitterness swelled her heart till she felt it had reached the bursting point. To think that her husband had dared to select that woman to bring Elinor home! She should have been sent for! Wasn’t she still his wife, and Elinor’s mother? Had Hugh thrown her into the dust and trampled upon her, he could not have humiliated her more than by sending this, to her, abominable creature as the conveyer of this appalling news. The strangeness of it all began to dawn upon her. How had Mrs. DeLacy been available at such an hour? Was Hugh in her company at the time? Her lips curled slightly as she asked: “Were you at that party, Mrs. DeLacy?” Geraldine drew herself haughtily erect. “I? Certainly not!” she cried indignantly. “Why do you ask?” “Because I fail to understand your connection in the affair,” replied the wife coldly. “What are you doing here? How do you come to bring Elinor home?” “Mr. Benton telephoned to me,” Geraldine flushed angrily as she faced Marjorie Benton’s cold, accusing eyes. “He knew that he could place every confidence in me—and asked me as a special favor to him, to bring Elinor home——” “I _understand_.” Marjorie spoke simply, but with finality. “Thank you—and good-night.” “I should like to remain if you don’t mind,” Geraldine strolled impertinently toward the davenport, adding, “until Mr. Benton and Howard come.” “Don’t you think it indelicate for you to attempt to intrude, Mrs. DeLacy? This is a time when the family desire to be alone.” “I realize that,” Geraldine smiled serenely. “But don’t you see, when one is such a trusted friend, I really feel as if I were one of the family.” Marjorie Benton had felt before that she had stood all that could be imposed on human nature. But now she found that it had been only a beginning. The cold, unadulterated nerve of the woman who assumed such prerogatives so casually, and at such a time, was beyond anything she could have dreamed. No longer was she physically weak. A great power was given to her. Gently she put aside her daughter’s clinging hands and rose to her feet with a firmness born of indignation too great for words. “Your assumption is a bit previous,” she remarked icily. “You have wrought destruction enough in this home for the present. I am sorry, but I must deny you the pleasure of remaining longer.”