"Just—say nothing," whispered Vandervent. "Leave him to me."
Clancy knew. The scandal that she had thought forever averted was about to break again. Her fingers were limp in Vandervent's clasp. She released them as Mrs. Hebron returned, followed by the young man who had descended from the sleigh.
"Miss Deane? Ah, how do, Mr. Vandervent?" he said.
"How do, Penwell? Miss Deane, let me present my good friend Roscoe Penwell, the Era's greatest reporter."
Penwell laughed.
"Why limit yourself when you're paying compliments? Why not the world's greatest reporter?" he asked.
"I amend my statement," smiled Vandervent.
Clancy held out her hand. Penwell bowed over it. He was a good-looking youngster, not so very many years older than herself, Clancy judged.
"Penwell," said Vandervent, "will publish his memoirs some day. Be nice to him, Miss Deane, and you'll receive a gift-copy."
Penwell colored.