Philip Rheinholdt, with a pretty young debutante upon his arm, came out from the dancing room and looked around amongst the little knots of people.
"I wonder where mother is," he remarked.
"Looking after some guests somewhere, for certain," the girl replied.
"Your mother is so wonderful at entertaining, Philip." "It's the hobby of her life," he declared.

"Never so happy as when she can get hold of somebody every one's talking about, and show him off.

Can't think what she's done with herself now, though.

She told me--" The young man broke off in the middle of his sentence.

He, too, like many others in the room, felt a sudden thrill almost of horror at the sound which rang without warning upon their ears--a woman's cry, a cry of fear and horror, repeated again and again.