as a needle."

"I think her hat is atrocious. It makes me tremble when I remember how
I relied on her taste. Those enormous black and white feathers, pinned
in crazy fashion with paste brooches, are horribly vulgar."

"Do you see that red-headed man just coming in?" says Carol.

"Yes. Who is he?"

"Eccott--a tremendously wealthy man, and a great financier. I expect
your husband knows him."

"Eccott--why, of course! I have often heard Philip speak of him. The
name is quite familiar to me, and now I come to think of it he is
living here at the Savoy. Philip often dines with him."

"And lunches?" asks Quinton hastily.

Eccott is speaking to the head waiter, and evidently looking for a
friend.

Eleanor can see down the long passage. Suddenly her heart sinks; the
palms of her hands grow cold.

"Philip is there!" she says under her breath.

"What will you do?" whispers Quinton.

"I--I don't know."

"Tell Giddy," he urges; "make the quarrel up now, take her into your
confidence, pretend you are together."

"Place myself in her hands? Oh, Carol, it would be too humiliating!"

Involuntarily she calls him by his Christian name.

"Self-justification is so embarrassing and unsatisfactory, and some
excuse must be made for our appearing here together, unless you take my
advice. He has not seen you yet, there is still time."

Thus Quinton urges the unwilling Eleanor to follow his suggestion.

"But I can't," she declares, half-crying. "What will Giddy think of
me? What will she say?"

"Shall I speak to her for you?"

"Oh! if you only would."

Philip is still talking outside in the passage to Mr. Eccott. Carol
rises, leans over the back of Mrs. Mounteagle's chair whispering
hurriedly:

"Philip Roche is here. I don't want him to see his wife with me. Take
her under your wing. I will make it worth your while."

Giddy takes the cue instantly. Such compromising situations are not
new to her. She is a Machiavelli in petticoats.

"Here, Bertie," she says, "slip into Eleanor's chair, and stop at that
table with Mr. Quinton."

She turns, smiles benignly upon Mrs. Roche, and motions her to take the
empty seat.

"There, my dear," she murmurs, as Eleanor, confused and ashamed, obeys.
"Let bygones be bygones, you are with me to-day. I brought you up to
town."

"No, you met me by chance at Madame Faustine's, and we came on here
together. Oh! Giddy, how good you are."

"A friend in need, eh?