“If you don’t object to a little ride, I think I know the very place,” was the prompt reply. “It is an inn on the road to Jamaica. I have stopped there on my way to the races.” “Splendid,” she enthused. “The ride will give us an appetite, and I adore inns.” “You had better go down ahead of me,” he said. “I will join you in a few moments after I give my clerk some instructions for the afternoon. We will go out in a taxi—my chauffeur—you know——” “I understand,” she saved him from further embarrassment. “You are more than considerate, and I appreciate your kind protection. I’ll wait below.” But Hugh Benton could not see the exultation in her eyes, nor know her no less exultant thoughts as she rode down in the elevator. At Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street, they were halted by congested traffic. Fate, or the imp that has so much joy in arranging just such contretemps must have laughed with glee that day when Marjorie Benton had felt the urge to go into town shopping. And it was that same imp who must have led her out onto the sidewalk to her waiting limousine just at the moment that a taxi halted in front of her,—and in that taxi were Geraldine DeLacy and Hugh Benton—a different Hugh than she had known in a long time herself, a Hugh so raptly attentive to his handsome companion, so joyously laughing at her witty sallies, so light-hearted that his attention did not swerve for one single moment to the pathetic figure on the sidewalk, an unattractive figure at best in her gray gown of severe cut. Marjorie Benton’s knees almost gave way under her at the sight. It was only her indomitable will power that helped her survive the shock. Realizing at once that they had not seen her, a thing for which she was truly grateful, she slipped back into the entrance of the store and from that concealed position, gazed with uncontrollable fascination at the two before her. Her eyes were blinded with tears she could not force back, but her cheeks burned with indignation. The traffic officer flashed the signal and the taxi vanished from sight. Still Marjorie remained rooted to the spot. Strange as it may seem, through all the years of estrangement, she had never once associated Hugh with deception of any kind. Somehow, she had always believed he would remain the gentleman she had married.