Part 20 (2/2)
”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 pa.s.sage. 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 embarra.s.sing 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 pa.s.sage 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? Finish Bertie's fruit salad. Good gracious, you are drinking whiskey and soda. Pa.s.s me his gla.s.s, it won't matter for me.”
Eleanor hands it over with trembling fingers.
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