"Of Eleanor?" exclaimed Miss Bennett. She was not and never had been a vain woman, but she was always astonished at men caring for a type of femininity different from her own. She liked Eleanor, but she thought her dry and unattractive, and she didn't see what a brilliant, handsome creature like O'Bannon could see in her. "Is he, really?" "Yes, he is," said Eleanor coolly. Experience had taught her an excellent manner in this situation. "I wish you had waited, Lydia," Miss Bennett went on. "It was very impressive the way he managed Evans, almost like a hypnotic influence. She told him everything. She seemed to give herself over into his hands. It was almost like a miracle. A moment before she had been so hostile--a miracle taking place right there in Lydia's bedroom." Lydia, who had been bending over reorganizing the fire, suddenly straightened up with the poker in her hand and said quickly, "Where? Taking place where?" "In your room, dear. Evans was shut up there." "That man in my room!" said Lydia, and her whole face seemed to blaze with anger. "It never occurred to me that you would object, my dear. He said he----" "It should have occurred to you. I hate the idea--that drunken attorney in my bedroom. It's not decent!" "Lydia!" said Miss Bennett. Eleanor spoke in a voice as cold as steel. "What do you mean by calling Mr. O'Bannon a drunken attorney?" "He drinks--Bobby says so." "I did not say so!" "Why, Bobby, you did!" "I said he used to drink when he was in college." "Oh, well, a reformed drunkard," said Lydia, shrugging her shoulders. "I can't imagine your doing such a thing, Benny, except that you always do anything that anyone asks you to do." Her tone was more insulting than her words, and Miss Bennett did the most sensible thing she could think of--she got up and left the room. Lydia stood on the hearthrug, tapping her foot, breathing quickly, her jaw set. "I think Bennett's losing her mind," she said. "I think you are," said Eleanor. "What possible difference does it make?" "You say that because you're crazy about this man. Perhaps if I were in love with him I'd lose all my sense of delicacy too; but as it is----" Eleanor got up. "I think I'll take my lack of delicacy home," she said. "Tell Morson to send for the motor, will you, Bobby? Good night Lydia. I've had a perfectly horrid evening." "Good night," said Lydia with a fierce little beck of her head. Bobby saw Eleanor to the car, and sat with her some time in the hall while it was being brought round. "No one could blame you for being furious; but you're not angry at her, are you, Eleanor?" he said. "Of course I'm angry!" answered Eleanor. "She's too impossible, Bobby. You can't keep on with people who let you in for this sort of thing. I could have had a perfectly pleasant evening at home--and to come out for a row like this!" "She doesn't do it often." "Often! No, there wouldn't be any question then."