Hugh fidgeted uneasily. “I don’t see what could have given you that impression,” he said. “Oh everything. You’re such a real sport, Dad, and mother is,” Howard waxed confidential, “so very——” “Stop!” Hugh commanded. “Your attempting to criticise your mother to me is very bad taste, Howard. I must refuse to listen to you.” “All right, Dad. Here’s where I get out!” He called to the chauffeur to stop. “But,” and there was unmistakable meaning in the eyes of the son, “I’m all for you, and you know it.” Hugh leaned back and closed his eyes as his car whirled toward his office. “Even my children pity me,” he meditated resentfully. “What a mess Marjorie and I have made of things!” But it was a commentary on the changed Hugh Benton that only for one solitary moment did he blame himself. Surely, he reflected morosely, Marjorie was anything but a successful wife or mother. At precisely 11:30 his clerk announced Mrs. DeLacy. She swept into the room gracefully, and extended her hand. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I think you will find me exactly on time.” Hugh glanced at the clock. “To the minute,” he answered, taking the offered hand. “You are one of earth’s rarities—a punctual woman.” “You would consider me very unappreciative if I kept you waiting,” she smiled, as she sank languidly into the easy chair which Hugh had drawn up for her. Sitting opposite her, his arms folded across his chest, Hugh stared at her approvingly. She seemed neither to notice nor resent the scrutiny as she chattered on for a few moments about commonplaces. She was bewitchingly charming to-day, he thought. Her dress, a symphony in brown from head to foot, was flattering in the extreme. With reluctance, the man forced himself to recall that Mrs. DeLacy’s visit was on business. There was so much more he would rather talk to her about. But then he remembered that it would be to her advantage—that it was in his power to aid her. He pulled a pad of paper toward him and dipped his pen into the wrought bronze ink-well on his shining desk. “Let us get down to business,” he said abruptly. “Tell me just how much money you have, how it is invested, and all the particulars.” “I have so little, I’m almost ashamed to mention it. It’s so good of you to bother with me at all,” she replied. She reached into her bag, extracted a number of papers and placed them upon his desk. In short order he had made a note of everything. Placing the memorandum in his desk’s drawer, he said bluntly: “Leave it all to me, my dear Mrs. DeLacy. It won’t take long to double or triple your money for you.” “How powerful you are,” she murmured admiringly, “and how wonderful to have found such a friend!” “Thank you.” He found himself blushing. “And now, where shall we go for luncheon?” “I don’t know,” Geraldine stammered confusedly. “We must be discreet—people are so unkind—especially to a widow. Can’t you suggest some place where we wouldn’t be apt to meet anyone who knows us?”