Hugh Benton had lost no time (nor had the widow allowed him, for that matter) after obtaining his divorce decree, in marrying Geraldine DeLacy. Some of their intimates, many of the more conservative element or the society in which they moved, believed that the marriage had occurred indecently soon after Marjorie had been put aside. But in general society let them alone to go their own way. Shoulders were raised eloquently in a few quarters, in others the names of Hugh Benton and the former Mrs. DeLacy were quietly erased from invitation lists, but the scandal was (as is so often the case among the busy four or five thousand who were once four hundred) not long in giving place to something more recent. Society was beginning to yawn when the name of Benton was mentioned.
The financier, happy in the possession of the woman with whom he was so deeply infatuated; his new wife, elated at the good fortune she had so triumphantly maneuvered, apparently cared not a whit for what society might say. Knowing most of them as she did, Geraldine DeLacy Benton smiled knowingly into her dressing table mirror, as she told herself that all would come in good time. With Hugh Benton’s money at her command, she was more than willing to wait her time to take the social leadership she felt so confidently would be hers before long.
Only Elinor was dissatisfied. The freedom she had been so happy over having had not brought her the joy she had expected it to. Even before leaving for Europe with her father and newly acquired step-mother, she had felt the sting of disapproval, and it had only made her more misanthropic than she was already speedily becoming. She could not help noticing that many of her own friends were avoiding her. Invitations were noticeably scarce. But it was some time before she took notice of this, since, in her new freedom, she had taken to visiting the more public tea and dance rooms in company with her various admirers, all of whom seemed to flock around her more than ever, in contradistinction to the cooling ardor for her friendship of their sisters and mothers. It was not until she met Rosebud Greely in the Plaza one afternoon that the truth of the matter was brought home to her, though. Elinor touched the girl on the arm as Rosebud passed through the aisle on her way to a table on the other side of the room, where her mother and some friends were sitting.
“Hello, Rosebud!” she greeted. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come and see my new quarters. Come down to the hotel and have tea with me to-morrow, won’t you?”
Rosebud Greeley, usually so open, so ready for anything, was noticeably uncomfortable. She cast a furtive glance across the room toward her mother.
“ ’Fraid I can’t, Elinor,” she said nervously. “The mater—you know——”
Elinor lifted surprised eyebrows.
“Why, what can she have against me?” was her hurt query.
Rosebud shook her head and turned to hurry along. But the hurt look in Elinor’s eyes touched the girl’s tender heart, and she gently brushed Elinor Benton’s arm. “Don’t you worry, old dear,” she advised. “It’ll all blow over—it’s so silly anyhow—but you must know what everyone is saying because you’re flying around unchaperoned, and you know my mater. Just the same, I wish I could do what you’re doing for a while!” She took Elinor in enviously and nodded her head toward the table the Benton heiress had left where a blasé youth was sitting waiting for her. “Try to see you some more, some time. Bye!”
Elinor could hardly realize it. So they were saying things about her, were they? Well, she’d show them! Her father——