“Oh, mother! Mother!” Elinor sobbed brokenly, as she wrenched herself from Geraldine’s arms and tottered toward her mother. Marjorie caught her as she fell. She held her closely as she had held her as a baby.
“What is it, dear?” she murmured tenderly. Mother instinct told her it was no time for reproaches, but a time for soothing. “What has happened? Try to control yourself and tell me.”
“Oh—I—I can’t! I can’t!” Elinor moaned. “It’s so terrible!”
Trembling from head to foot Marjorie, holding Elinor closely to her, turned to Geraldine. “Perhaps, Mrs. DeLacy, you will kindly tell me—what this all means?” she asked.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Benton,” Geraldine replied gravely, “but a terrible thing has happened. I—I scarcely know how to tell you.”
Marjorie’s eyes flashed fire. “Nothing can be more terrible than this dreadful suspense! You must tell me at once!” she commanded.
“Very well, but I want you to believe me, Mrs. Benton, when I tell you that it grieves me greatly to be the bearer of this news.” Geraldine’s attempt at friendly conciliation passed by the distracted mother.
“Go on—please!” she ordered, with set lips.
“This evening,” Geraldine began, “Templeton Druid had a dinner party in his rooms after the show——”
“Who is Templeton Druid?” Marjorie interrupted.