She's buying him; he's selling himself.

How vile!" But the reasons why they were betraying her did not change or mitigate the fact of betrayal; and that fact showed itself to proud, confident Adelaide Ranger in the form of the proposition that she had been jilted, and that all the world, all her world, would soon know it.

Jilted! She--Adelaide Ranger--the all-conqueror--flung aside, flouted, jilted.
She went back to that last word; it seemed to concentrate all the insult and treason and shame that were heaped upon her.

And she never once thought of the wound to her heart; the fierce fire of vanity seemed to have cauterized it--if there was a wound.
What could she do to hide her disgrace from her mocking, sneering friends?
For, hide it she must--must--_must_! And she had not a moment to lose.
A little thought, and she went to the telephone and called up her brother at the Country Club.

When she heard his voice, in fear and fright, demanding what she wanted, she said: "Will you bring Dory Hargrave to dinner to-night?
And, of course, don't let him know I wanted you to." "Is _that_ all!" exclaimed Arthur in a tone of enormous relief, which she was too absorbed in her calamity to be conscious of.
"You will, won't you?
Really, Arthur, it's _very_ important; and don't say a _word_ of my having telephoned--not to _anybody_." "All right! I'll bring him." A pause, then.