Hal was silent. She stood with her hands behind her, and her head held high, and her clear eyes very straight to the front; well-knit, well-built, with a promise of that vague something which is so much stronger a factor in the world than mere beauty.
Miss Walton, who necessarily saw much of the mediocre and commonplace in her life-work of turning growing girls into presentable young women, felt her feelings undergo a further change. She also had the tact to see an appeal would go farther than mere advice.
“I was only thinking of you, Hal,” she said, a trifle tiredly. “I have nothing against Lorraine, except that she is dangerously attractive if she likes, and her love of admiration and excitement does not make her a very wise friend for a girl of your age. You are different, and your paths are likely to lead far apart in the future. It did not seem to me desirable you should grow too fond of each other.”
Even as she spoke she found herself wondering what Hal would say, and in an unlooked-for way interested.
Hal answered promptly:
“I do not think our lives will lie apart. Both of us will have to be breadwinners at any rate, and that will be a bond.”
Her mobile face seemed to change. “Miss Walton, I’m devoted to Lorraine. I always shall be. But you needn’t be anxious. The stronger influence is not where you think. I can bend Lorraine’s will, but she cannot bend mine. It will always be so. And nothing that you nor any one can say will make me change to her.”
They said little more, but when she was alone the head mistress stood silently for some minutes looking into the dying embers of her fire. Then she uttered to herself an enigmatical sentence:
“Beauty will give to Lorraine the great career; but the greater woman will be Hal.”
Shortly after that Lorraine departed, and about a year later embarked in the theatrical world.