After their drive to the Waldorf in the Thurston limousine, it was Geraldine who maneuvered to walk behind with Elinor, as they strolled leisurely through the hotel lobby. Young as she was, Elinor Benton could not help but notice that something was disturbing her chaperone as Mrs. DeLacy glanced nervously from side to side. “What is it, Geraldine?” she asked in concern. “Is anything wrong?” Mrs. DeLacy shook her head half-heartedly, then her fine eyes came to rest appealingly on Elinor’s. “No—no,” she began, then hurried on with nervous suddenness. “No—er—well, yes, there is, Elinor dearest. I hate so to tell you, but—but—well,” she lowered her voice to a whisper: “I’m afraid, dear, you’ll have to come to my rescue. Here I have invited you all to tea and asked Mr. Druid to join us, and I have just discovered that I lack the necessary funds——” “Not another word, please, Geraldine,” Elinor interrupted hastily. “It’s a pleasure to be of any service to you, dear.” And opening her bag, she extracted the fifty-dollar bill her father had placed there, and pressed it into Geraldine’s hands. “Thank you so much,” beamed the chaperone, glancing hurriedly at the bill before she thrust it into her purse. “I’ll return it at the earliest opportunity.” If anyone had dared assert that Geraldine DeLacy was a social parasite, Elinor would have defended her with emphatic loyalty. Nevertheless, that was an appellation Mrs. DeLacy justly deserved. It was no great secret how she subsisted luxuriously upon the generosity of friends and acquaintances. Habitual borrowing had become her source of income, and she was well known to mention her inadequate memory as extenuation for failing to repay her obligations. At their table for six in one of the tea rooms, it was again Geraldine who adroitly managed to leave the vacant seat for the actor between Elinor and herself. They had barely fluttered into place before Templeton Druid entered pompously as was his wont. His appearance caused the mild sensation he always hoped for. Heads turned in his direction; there were whispered comments. To the unbiased onlooker, it was clear as light the actor was not displeased. “This is indeed an unexpected pleasure,” he told Geraldine as he reached her table and bowed low over her hand. “I would have known you anywhere. If there is a change it is that you are more beautiful than ever, if that is possible.” “And you, I find, still retain your aptitude for pretty speeches,” Geraldine answered laughingly but not ill pleased herself. “Let me present you to my friends.” He acknowledged each introduction with studied gallantry, retaining possession of each little hand a fraction of a second longer than necessary.