The woman shot him an arch glance.
“Which we may be, I hope?” she queried, and there was something in that glance and appealing voice which sent a quiver through the financier’s nerve centers such as he had not known in many a day. “As I hope,” she added, playfully pinching Elinor’s cheek, “that it has been nice things this child has been saying about me.”
Elinor interrupted breathlessly.
“Why, Dad, I told you, didn’t I, that she was beautiful and fascinating and——”
“Quite the most wonderful creature alive—I admit it myself,” Geraldine’s laugh was whole-hearted, but the look she gave Hugh was one of mutual understanding. “It’s quite wonderful to be a chaperone to children who can find no fault in you because you love to see them enjoy themselves. And besides, a widow must have some admiration, and from what better source than the girls she loves?”
Hugh Benton had appreciated the glance of understanding, but now he could not restrain his gallant: “She wasn’t half eloquent enough, Mrs. DeLacy.”
Geraldine smiled and lowered her lashes over her wonderful dark eyes.
“It’s so fine to hear such things—even if one is not a débutante, and of course, has to take a back seat at such affairs as this.”
The music was beginning for a new dance. Elinor saw Frank Joyce, whose name was on her card, approaching.
“Oh, Dad,” she said, regretfully, “we’ve missed our dance, but we’ll have another later. Take good care of my family, Geraldine,” she called laughingly as she whirled away in young Joyce’s arms, her mind still on the slow moving time that separated her from Templeton Druid.