The Bentons, father and daughter, (it had been the greatest joy to Elinor when her mother had made a final declination of her own and her father’s invitation to accompany them) were among the earlier arrivals. Elinor Benton had not yet become so blasé that she was willing to forego any moment of triumph which was inevitably hers at such an affair. Her very happiness at the thought of meeting Templeton Druid again (though that one ride had only been the precursor of others which had followed and which had led in this short time to an intimacy she had never known with any of the men in her own set), of being held in his arms in the dance, and with the added zest of being from under her mother’s eyes, for she had dreaded the thought of introducing the matinée hero to her mother and being questioned as to her friendship, had further enhanced the beauty that made her the center of attraction wherever she went. Much thought had been spent on the gown she wore—a marvelous creation of georgette crêpe, its _couleur de rose_ shading from the deepest tint to a delicate shell pink. And strangely enough for her, it had not been the thought that it would bring the usual crowds of callow youth about her that had been responsible for the careful toilette. What Templeton Druid would think of her—could she further bring him to her feet—had been the all-absorbing hope as she had stood before her long mirror while her maid put the finishing touches to the dream she saw before her. Elinor Benton had no worry about her father as far as her actor was concerned. She knew her father—knew his careless acceptance of anything she might tell him; knew, too, the only half hidden snobbery that would accept without question any guest of the Thurstons. Hugh Benton had reached the point where his society gods and goddesses could do no wrong. A one-step was starting as the Bentons entered the big ball room. Hugh looked about him with as happy eyes as did his daughter. This was the kind of thing he loved; this what he had always been denied. His wife cared so little for the enjoyments of the society into which his hard work and diplomacy had landed them. But had he been a bit more observant, he would have seen that his little girl’s eyes were not as care-free as usual, that she was restless; there was still something that must occur to make her happiness complete. There was the thought that three hours must elapse before Templeton Druid should make his appearance. She saw several youths making their way in her direction. Of a sudden they seemed unspeakably inane. She did not want to dance with them. She placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Come on, Dad, let’s dance,” she urged. “This is a one-step; I know you can dance that——” Hugh Benton looked down and laughed as he placed his arm about his daughter.