As Hugh closed his eyes, his thoughts were of his beautiful daughter and the brilliant match she was sure to make. But Marjorie—poor little mother—all night she lay alone, in her darkened room, her hands pressed to her throbbing temples, the hot tears scorching her cheeks. Two thoughts ran riot through her mind—one was that her son, her boy, was lying a few rooms down the corridor in a drunken stupor. The other was, that Elinor, her baby, had gone to bed without even attempting to kiss her good-night. CHAPTER VI Elinor Benton’s social success was all that she had seen envisioned on the night of her début. In the months that followed whirls of teas, luncheons, dinners, dances all but dizzied her sophisticated little head as she dashed madly from one to the other. Vague hints in the society columns linked her name with eligibles who were the despair of the mothers of other girls in her set. But blonde young Elinor took it as her meed and due, and laughed to her dimpled face in the mirror when she told herself how far wrong they were. She had no intention of entering the ranks of young matrons yet. Life was too full; too sweet. Homage was too dear to her, and the sway she held in one man’s heart, her father’s, too complete to think of exchanging him for any other man; her own wonderful home for that of another. True to his word, Hugh Benton had made himself a real chum to her. It was to him she took her petty worries; her secrets. Though not often referred to, they had one thing in common not usual between father and daughter—their disapproval of the mother and wife, their intolerance of what they chose to call her old-fashioned ways, of her Puritanism, her love of the good and upstanding orthodoxy. Busy at his desk one morning, Hugh frowned at the soft opening and closing of his door. He did not like even his confidential employees to disturb him when he was answering personal letters. But he knew it was no employee when he felt two soft arms about his neck, felt the softness only less so of rich furs against his cheeks and caught the subtle perfume he had come to associate with his daughter. “Guess who!” whispered Elinor’s voice. Then she answered her own question with a kiss. Aloud she added with a pretended pout: “Aren’t you glad to see me—and surprised——” Hugh laughed as he pulled her to his knees. “Yes, a little—to that last part,” he said, hastening to add gallantly: “But delighted, nevertheless. What brings you into town at this time? You must have had an early start.”