All the next day, she rehearsed in her mind just what she would say, and at a few minutes past six, when Griggs announced Mrs. DeLacy she was calmly waiting for her.
Geraldine entered apologetically: “Am I a few minutes late, Mrs. Benton? My dressmaker detained me this afternoon, and consequently I was tardy with all my engagements.”
“Thank you for coming, Mrs. DeLacy.” Marjorie motioned to her to be seated. “I should have come to you, but as I told you, when I telephoned, I thought it would be easier to arrange a private interview here.”
“How interesting. Sounds as if it were to be quite confidential.” Geraldine sank languidly into a comfortable chair and extracted a cigarette from her case. “Have one? Oh—I forgot—you never indulge. No objections to my having a puff or two, I hope? It rests my nerves so—after I’ve been rushing about.”
Marjorie merely nodded. The insolence of the woman was almost unbearable.
“Well, now, Mrs. Benton, what is this secret? I am fairly consumed with curiosity. Is it about Elinor? I hope the dear child has not been,—well—let us say—indiscreet?”
“I am perfectly capable of managing my daughter myself, Mrs. DeLacy—and I would hardly send for you to advise me concerning her,” Marjorie answered freezingly.
“Why is it, Mrs. Benton, that you dislike me so?” Geraldine faced her squarely. “From the moment of our first meeting, you have shown me plainly just how you feel toward me.”
“You’re right,” Marjorie realized that without undue maneuvering, the cards were on the table, “I never liked you—you will pardon me for having to say this in my own house—indeed, I mistrusted and disliked you, but I never feared you, until yesterday—because I have always had faith in my husband.”
“Your husband?”