Howard Benton’s wait for his father had been as futile as it was long. At first he had sat slumped in a chair grumpily, watching the door impatiently for each new arrival, his whole attention given to this new emotion of his, this wakening to duty and his new sense of responsibility toward his sister. Where in the world could his dad be? He ought to be there right then listening to what he, Howard, had to divulge. No telling what Elinor was doing by now! She was such a silly—such a headstrong——
The clap of Woods Thorndyke’s hand on his shoulder in no light fashion awakened him from his reverie.
“Come out of it, old top!” exclaimed the newcomer cheerily. “What’s on the youngster’s mind? Come on up to the card room. One of the chaps has some of his dad’s best private stock and you’ll just fit in for a rubber!”
Howard shook his head.
“No, thanks, Thorn, old boy,” he declared, “no time for cards to-night—got an engagement—with my own dad!”
“Oh, come on,” urged the other, “you can get your call down any old time, and a nice little game—one rubber——”
But the Benton heir was firm about one thing. His head shake was more decided than ever.
“No—nary a rub—” he declared with positiveness, “but,” and he wavered a little as he eyed his companion. Really, he began to feel sorry for himself. What right did Elinor have to get him all wrought up like this. He felt that by now he needed, most likely deserved, a drink. “But,” he went on brightening a little, “I believe I could use a little shot or so!”
And one or two in that congenial company of his boon companions led to more and more, until by two o’clock he had quite forgotten all about Elinor, forgotten many things, in fact, save his determination not to enter a card game which might last interminable hours. Somewhere in his hazy consciousness it was borne in on him that he had an important engagement with his father, but he could not just think what it was about.
He made a trip to the smoking room and learned that his father had neither been seen nor heard from. Oh, well, whatever it was he was going to talk to dad about would have to wait. He was tired; he was going home.
He started for the hat room. Just outside the door two chaps were talking. Both of them he knew well, but the “Hello” he had almost hurled at them was frozen on his lips at a name he heard. In a twinkling the haziness disappeared. He knew why he had been waiting. He stepped back into the shadow of a potted palm and listened without compunction.
“Elinor Benton!” was the exclamation he heard. “You can’t be serious. She’d never fall for that fourflusher, Druid.”
“But I tell you they’re everywhere together,” the other replied. “I meet them driving in the park nearly every day, she at the wheel, and often his arm about her. I’ve seen them coming out of inns and roadhouses, rather questionable ones too—if you’ll take it from me. I’m surprised her people stand for it.”
“Perhaps they don’t know anything about it, and if they do, they may look upon it as a harmless flirtation.”
“Harmless flirtation!” The man laughed. “Knowing Druid as well as you do, I can’t see how you could ever imagine a flirtation with him harmless.”
“Oh—well then,” came the answer, “maybe he intends to marry her. He could do a lot worse, you know, than to fall in for some of the Benton money.”
“I agree with you, and no doubt he does too, but I know it will take some time before he is free. His wife is suing him for divorce now.”
“What!” the other exclaimed. “I never knew he had a wife.”
“It isn’t generally known for business reasons. Those theater chappies consider him a more profitable investment unmarried. I happen to know, though, that he married a little chorus girl about six years ago somewhere in the Middle West.”
“Where is she now?”
“They couldn’t get along together, so,”—and outspread hands finished the sentence. “She’s out on the Coast now, working in pictures, and is interested in someone else—hence, the divorce proceedings.”
Howard stepped forth from his place of concealment. His eyes blazed like coals of fire in his gray face.
“Benton!” came the disturbed exclamation.
“ ’Sall right, boys.” He smiled feebly. “You didn’t know I was there.”
“Oh—I’m sorry, Benton,” Frank Crimmins assured him earnestly as he stepped forward. “I feel like a silly gossiping woman. Please don’t pay any attention to what I’ve said.”
“On the contrary, I think you’ve done me a service. You see, I hadn’t any idea that Druid was a married man.”
“Didn’t you know that he has been rather friendly with your sister?”
“The news of his friendship for my sister has come to me only to-night through three different sources. Now, I am going to get it directly from his own lips,” he announced ominously.
Crimmins endeavored to restrain him: “Wait a minute, Benton, don’t make a fool of yourself! You’re not in a condition to see anyone right now—wait until to-morrow.”
“I’m going now.” He brushed aside the friendly detaining hand and demanded his things from the coat-boy. “I’ll show him that he can’t juggle with my sister’s reputation and get away with it.”
“The hot-headed young idiot,” Crimmins said, as Howard rushed from the club. “I suppose he’ll go up to Druid’s and attempt to mop up the place with him.”
“Feel sorry for him if he does,” the other replied with a meaning grin. “He’ll get the worst of it—Druid’s some athlete.”
Crimmins was still conscience-stricken. “Perhaps we should have gone with him?” he suggested.
“Nonsense! Take my advice and always keep out of other people’s quarrels. Come on, have another ball, and then I’m going to turn in.”
It was mid-night when Elinor Benton arrived at Templeton Druid’s studio apartment—a delightful hour, she thought, shivering deliciously, to be arriving anywhere, and unaccompanied. Since she had made her début, it was not at all unusual for her to be dancing in the small hours and twelve o’clock usually saw the top of the excitement. But always she had conventionally arrived at dance or reception or whatever gayety along with those of all her set at much more seasonable hours. Templeton and all his friends were so excitingly different. But still when she had thrown aside her ermine wrap with the solicitous aid of her hero himself, who did not neglect to give her arm an affectionate squeeze, she found herself, among the bizarre appointments of the actor’s home—and his astonishingly elated and at ease guests, a bit diffident and shy. But not for long. For an ingénue, Elinor Benton found she was able with great ease to adapt herself to the unfamiliar atmosphere. Perhaps it may have been something in the weird lighting effects; perhaps the subtle perfume of the Orient that rose in hazy fumes from swinging censers, the dim reflection of the lighted sconces on mirrors that made the restless guests seem figures in a pageant and far off, with eerie faces that so effectually drowned her diffidence and made her senses whirl with abandon like the fumes of a heady wine. Or maybe it was the possessive, lover-like attitude of Templeton Druid himself that bade her throw aside stilted convention and become one of those with whom her hero surrounded himself. However, it may have been, Elinor Benton, débutante, at the end of ten minutes of her first visit to Templeton Druid’s apartments might have been long a woman of the world, the stage world, which, until the time of his opportune recognition by Geraldine DeLacy had been the man’s only world.
Introductions, had she but known it, were of no account in that assemblage, but Templeton Druid remembering her social training, did not dispense with them with his favored guest. To each, as he made the circle of the long studio room, he introduced her as “his dearest little friend”—not forgetting to add that she was the daughter of Hugh Benton, the financier.
Another round of cocktails was served. The somewhat blasé guests took heart. Dinner was announced, and the fun began to wage fast and furious. Elinor was enjoying every minute of it. Here was a party worth while, she thought. What a wonderful crowd of whole-hearted, happy-go-lucky people. And she would soon be one of them—after she and Templeton were married! She would give all sorts of dinners and parties, and invite this same crowd of charming, congenial people.
As befitted the most honored guest, she was seated next to her host at the table. At first he was discreetness personified in all his actions toward her. But as the dinner progressed and he imbibed more and more freely of the various wines the possession of which only he could have explained, he threw all caution to the winds. Openly he avowed his passion for her.
“I’m mad about you, darling,” he whispered, bending his head close to her ear. “Each time I see you, I want you more and more for my very own.”
Elinor listened with shining eyes.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, dear,” she nodded, “because there’s something I want to talk to you about. The most disagreeable thing has happened at home and——”
“Won’t have you telling me disagreeable things on—my birthday.” He hiccoughed slightly. “Going to stop that pretty little mouth with kisses.” And disregarding guests, appearances, he grabbed her to him to carry out his threat.
“Please—please, Templeton.” She struggled to free herself, her face suffused with blushes. “Let me go! You embarrass me dreadfully! Don’t you see everyone is looking at you.”
“Let ’em look. What do I care? You’re my little girl—I love you, and I’m proud of it! So there—and there!” He caught the struggling girl with one arm, swung her from her chair, as he emphasized his words with fervent caresses.
With face suffused with scarlet, Elinor Benton drew herself from the arms of the man who had so publicly declared himself her lover. But as she glanced at Druid’s other guests, in full expectation of an embarrassing few moments, she was as much bewildered as surprised to see that the episode had passed unnoticed. Each was too intent on his or her own affairs. A small stream of wine flowed redly across the white cloth from its shattered goblet that had been overturned as Marie Shaw, a Follies girl, had over-reached herself in her attempt to bombard Giles Fellowes, her own pet press agent, who sat across the table with the centerpiece of orchids which now trailed, a bedraggled mess half down to the floor. Teddy Martin, a composer, who himself admitted he was a popular one, wanted to show off his latest hit. He tipped over his chair in his eagerness to reach the piano.
Harold Westley, handsome as a screen actor should be, danced over to Elinor and pulled her away from Templeton Druid.
“Come on,” he urged. “Teddy’s giving us a fox trot,” then, as Druid put out an unsteady protesting hand, he laughed at him: “Needn’t think, just because you’re one of those ‘appears, personally, himself’s’ that you can monopolize Miss Benton the whole evening!”
Before she realized it, Elinor felt herself whirled away in the movie actor’s arms.
“Some party—I’ll say,” he drawled. “Having a good time?”
“Wonderful,” she answered. “I’ve never been to anything like this before—it’s so different.”
“How do you mean—different?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s so free from restraint of any kind. Everyone does just as he pleases, and no one seems to think anything about it.”
He laughed heartily. “If you think this is free from restraint, you should have been here at the party Templeton gave a week ago! We had some night of it.”
“I—I know—” she stammered, trying to conceal her confusion, her heart thumping madly. “I couldn’t come that night on account of a previous engagement.”
“You missed one great time—but never mind,” he reassured her, “the night’s young yet, and you can’t tell how this will wind up—although there doesn’t begin to be the number of pretty babies that were here the other night. Why you’re by far the one best bet in the room to-night,” and he attempted to hold her closer. But at this all the girl’s training rebelled. It was one thing for Templeton to—she was engaged to him—but for this unknown actor——
“I can’t dance any more—I’m tired, and I believe the wine has gone to my head,” she said weakly. She was angry, too, at what he had told her about Templeton.
“Sit here,” Westley said, leading her to a large chair in the corner, “and I’ll bring you some black coffee—that’ll fix you up all right.”
As soon as he was out of sight, she looked around for Druid. As she caught his eye, she beckoned for him to come to her.
“Well, sweetness—did you have a nice dance?” he inquired, sitting on the arm of her chair. But she pushed him away from her, and faced him.
“You had a party here last week,” she accused him furiously, “and there were a lot of girls present.”
“Well—well—well! Who’s been telling you the news?”
Marjorie Benton (Mary Alden) refuses to allow her daughter (Norma Shearer) to attend a roof-garden review.
(“The Valley of Content” screened as “Pleasure Mad.”)
“Never mind who’s been telling me! I know it—that’s enough! I—I thought you were absolutely true to me, and now—you’ve broken my heart.” Her wail ended in a sob.
“Come now, Elinor, don’t be foolish and create a scene.” He looked around uneasily. The laugh would be on him if the bunch— “You know I love you, darling,” he added quickly, insinuatingly. “There isn’t another woman in the world who means anything to me.”
“Oh—if I could only believe you!” But the sobs still came. “I love you so! I’m insanely jealous of your every thought. When I think of you day after day—thrown in contact with so many beautiful and clever women, I am filled with the fear of someone coming between us—I couldn’t bear it now—I couldn’t, dear!”
“Listen to me, darling,” he whispered, gently drying her eyes with his daintly-perfumed handkerchief. “I love you and only you! Please remember that, and when you are my little wife——”
“When will that be, dear?” She looked up through her tears to ask anxiously.
“Soon—very soon—my own,” he murmured. Forgetting the hilarious, laughing merry-makers around her, conscious only of one thing—that she loved this man and wanted his comfort and assurance, Elinor Benton let him draw her into his arms, hold her close.
She clung to him passionately; his kisses she returned with wild abandon. Unnoticed, the pins slipped from her hair and it hung about her like a shower of gold, as she nestled in his arms.
There was a commotion at the door as someone swept by the valet and pulled aside the portieres. Elinor and Templeton looked up simultaneously.
Standing in the doorway, wild-eyed and white as death was Howard Benton!
By the time Howard had reached Druid’s apartments, he was seeing red. He refused to allow the hallboy to announce him. He was expected, he said. When Druid’s valet opened the door, he thrust him aside and made straight for the living room. It was the valet’s attempt to restrain him, and Howard’s persistency that caused the commotion that brought Elinor and Templeton Druid from their trance, caused them at glance upward to see him standing in the doorway.
“Howard!” Elinor could only gasp weakly.
“Hello, Howard,” Druid put Elinor out of his arms, and came forward, struggling to gain his self-control. “This is a surprise. Did you drop in to wish me a happy birthday?” He held out his hand.
“No—damn you!” gritted the boy, as he brushed aside Druid’s hand. His lips drew back from his teeth in animal-like passion. “No! I came here to demand an explanation of you! And I’m—going—to—have—it!”
