It was late in the afternoon when she calmly walked to the telephone, called the Thurston home and asked to speak with Mrs. DeLacy.
“Yes, this is Mrs. DeLacy,” Geraldine drawled. “Who is this, please?”
“Mrs. DeLacy,” Marjorie answered, her voice distinct and serene, while her heart throbbed, “this is Mrs. Benton. I have a request to make of you.”
“Why—Mrs. Benton,” Geraldine with difficulty disguised her surprise. It was the first time Mrs. Benton had deigned to telephone her. “What can I do for you?”
“Will you call to see me to-morrow, and give me a few minutes of your time. There is something I wish to discuss with you. I would come to you only the matter is quite confidential, and I think we shall be freer from interruption here.”
“You fill me with curiosity, Mrs. Benton. I shall be glad to come, only to-morrow happens to be a very busy day for me. As long as it is to be a short interview, will it be convenient for you to see me at six o’clock, on my way home from a five o’clock tea at the Woodsons?”
“That will be all right. I shall expect you at six to-morrow. Good-by—and—thank you,” Marjorie added reluctantly.
Geraldine hung up the receiver in a marked state of disconcertion. What in the world could Marjorie Benton wish to see her about? She had never telephoned to her before. In fact, she had barely treated her with formal civility when they happened to meet. She couldn’t understand why she should be at all perturbed unless perhaps it was a twinge of conscience. At all events she would put it from her until to-morrow. No doubt it was something concerning Elinor—she knew that Marjorie strongly disapproved of their intimacy. Well, she——
The dinner gong interrupted any further soliloquy. She hurried down to the dining room. The Thurstons were having guests for dinner, one of whom she was most desirous of knowing, a wealthy, distinguished bachelor. True, she had had a remarkably interesting start with Hugh Benton, but after all, he was married, so it could do no harm to exert her affability in Mr. Tilmar’s direction. One could never tell just what might happen. She could not afford to allow a single opportunity to escape her.
Marjorie Benton was satisfied. She had carefully debated all afternoon, and had finally concluded that her only course lay in facing Geraldine DeLacy. She would be different from other women and come out into the open. Perhaps she could reach the DeLacy woman’s sense of honor. At all events, she would not permit her to imagine that she was a poor, deceived wife, the victim of a cheap and tawdry triangle. Those things were all very well on the stage—but in real life—Well, she would handle the situation differently.