"Oh, I realize that, my dear, but she is--an artist. She has given all a wonderful treat. Tell her to drop in the office to see me, when she is composed again. I fancy the whole matter made her a little nervous. She dropped her flowers, as if frightened for a moment."
"Yes, I noticed that," said Jane foolishly. As if everyone had not "noticed that."
Out in the lane, a bypath that wound round to the campus houses, Marian Seaton and Dolorez Vincez were tramping along, arm in arm, minds working in a strain of peculiar satisfaction.
"I knew that would get her," said Dolorez.
"Yes, wasn't it perfectly tragic!" exclaimed Marian.
"Great!" declared the other, less choice with her expression than was Marian. "I would not have missed that for a farm."
"The effect was certainly very startling. Yet she did recover herself. What a wonderful player she is! How ever did she learn all that in her scant years?"
"Born that way," tritely contributed Dolorez. "One doesn't have to learn--talent."
"I suppose not. But how wonderful it is. Why was not I born that way, as you say? Think what talent would mean to me?" this with a sigh.
"Oh, come, Molly," and Dolorez wrapt her arm more tightly around the velvet cloak. "You have talent. What about all that money we are going to make?"