As they stood up to leave the little inn where they had their sandwiches
and tea, the actor, in his most courtly manner bent over, and reaching
for her hand, pressed his lips gently to the tips of her fingers.
His was a vast experience with women. It had taught him much, enough to
realize that, impetuous and pampered as this girl was, he must use the
utmost discrimination in endeavoring to arouse her admiration.
Elinor’s heart pounded bewilderingly as she withdrew her hand and turned
toward the car. It had not resumed its rhythmic beating even when they
reached the Plaza where they were met by Mrs. DeLacy, who was true to
her promise to see Elinor through her escapade. Templeton Druid found
time for one confidential whisper.
“Now don’t forget your promise,” he reminded, his tone languishing as
though nothing else in the world meant so much. “Be sure to ’phone me
to-morrow morning and let me know when I can see you again.”
Elinor nodded but her eyes betrayed much to that wise little lady when
she took her seat by Geraldine DeLacy’s side in the Thurston limousine.
CHAPTER VIII
Judged from a standpoint of society notables present, the Thurston dance
was the success of the season. True, there was a notable lack of the old
conservative element, the Knickerbocker strain, but no one noticed the
absence of these kill-joys, as some of the younger set were wont to
refer to them, and their absence was more than atoned for by the bevy of
débutantes, second-season belles and attractive matrons whose doings
filled so many columns in the society gossip. To say nothing of a
scattering of celebrities. And to anyone who knew him, it was plain that
Templeton Druid considered himself not the least of these.
The Broadway star made a late, a very late appearance—the affair had
progressed to the stage where the younger set had long since abandoned
their more proper dancing for the jazziest of modern Terpsichorean
feats, utterly careless, in most cases, oblivious of the few frowns that
met them from the few older matrons who had not accustomed themselves to
seeing the sons and daughters of their own sort resort to the gyrations
of public dance halls.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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