“Yes, I suppose we must.” Hugh reached for her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “But,” he added, meaningly, “remember this—you have called me your friend and—we shall meet again.” He finished abruptly as he led her toward the brightly-lighted windows, and there was determination in his tone. Nell Thurston was just taking Templeton Druid, who had but made his belated pompous appearance, over to meet her father and mother when Mrs. DeLacy re-entered the ballroom on the arm of Hugh Benton. They made their way toward Elinor who stood alone for the moment, her eyes fastened with all the fascination of a bird on its natural enemy on the tall, lithe figure of the Thespian. So interested was she that she did not even see her father and friend, though she had taken occasion two or three times to wonder a little at their prolonged absence. “He’s here just to see me—me!” was her exultant thought. “Oh, what would they all think if they knew,” pridefully. Like nearly everyone else the big room, so effectually had Templeton Druid learned to make his entrances, Hugh Benton saw the man, and his brows twisted in perplexity as he looked. “Who is he?” he asked his companion. “It seems as if I know him, but I can’t quite place——” “Templeton Druid,” informed Mrs. DeLacy. Hugh’s “Oh,” was somewhat illuminative. “Oh,” he said, “Templeton Druid, the actor? Is he—is he a friend of the Thurstons?” “He’s a friend of mine,” was Geraldine’s information, in a tone that removed from Hugh Benton’s mind any doubt of the matinée idol’s eligibility anywhere. “We went to the same school in Richmond. He’s from an excellent family.” They had reached Elinor’s side just in time for the girl to hear the last remark of Mrs. DeLacy, and it was a look of gratitude she shot at her friend and chaperone as she quickly took in of whom they were speaking. “Ah, Elinor,” purred Geraldine, as she placed her arm about the waist of the other, “I see a friend of ours. You know,” and she turned informatively to the father, “I introduced several girls to Mr. Druid at the Waldorf one afternoon while we were having tea. You were one of them, weren’t you, dear?” Elinor nodded, but Geraldine chattered on. “He’s really charming and cultured, but—ah, you shall judge for yourself, Mr. Benton.” Templeton Druid, his introductions to his hosts completed had straightened his tall figure in its immaculate evening garb and was looking about the room as though in search of someone. His glance caught Geraldine’s and she beckoned. He approached with an eagerness that brought a frown of something akin to jealousy to the financier’s face as he bent a keen look on his new-found friend. Geraldine held out her hand cordially. “I’m so glad you could come,” she enthused. “You’ve met Miss Benton, haven’t you?” turning to Elinor, who felt as if the pounding of her heart must be heard above the buzz of conversation. “I have had the pleasure,” Templeton replied, bending over Elinor’s hand.