Grace did not ask further questions. She noted that the girl was ill at ease. “I received Miss Lipton’s letter regarding you a week ago,” she hastened to say. “I wrote her, as you know, that we could place you. She answered saying we might expect you at almost any time. After you have had a chance to rest and make yourself comfortable I will tell you of Harlowe House and the girls who live there.”
One after the other the girls spoke friendly, encouraging words to the unfortunate freshman. Kathleen and Patience possessed themselves of her heavy bag, carrying it between them. Grace walked with the newcomer, pointing out the various interesting features of the little college town, in an attempt to put the stranger entirely at her ease after her disquieting experience. So far she had had slight opportunity to observe this latest freshman arrival. She had a vague idea that Jean Brent was an unusually attractive girl, but the side view she obtained of her, as they walked along, was far from satisfactory. The newcomer said little, and only once during the short walk to Harlowe House did she turn a pair of very blue eyes directly upon Grace.
It fell to Evelyn Ward to show her to her room, as she was to be Evelyn’s roommate. The girl had exclaimed a little, after the manner of girls, at the attractiveness of Harlowe House, but in spite of her brief flare of enthusiasm over the house and grounds, the tasteful living room and the daintiness of the room she and Evelyn occupied, she encased herself in a curious, impenetrable shell of mystery that Evelyn’s natural curiosity could find no excuse to penetrate. She listened gravely and attentively to all that Evelyn told her of Harlowe House and its lucky household, but she volunteered no information concerning herself except a reluctant, “I came from the West,” in answer to her roommate’s question as to where she lived.
The more Evelyn observed her the more attractive she appeared. She was of medium height, and, although plump, could not be called stout. Her face was rather round, with no suggestion of fatness, while her features were small and regular. Her eyes were not large, but their intense blueness made them a significant feature of her face. Her hair was light brown and had a burnished look in the sun. It grew thickly upon her well-shaped head, and she wore it in a graceful knot at the back of her head. When she smiled, which had been but once since Evelyn first encountered her, she displayed unusually white, even teeth. It dawned upon Evelyn as she watched her unpacking her bag that Jean Brent had not only her share of good looks but a curious power of attraction as well that would carry her far toward college popularity if she chose to exert it. She wondered if she and Jean would get along well together. Although the new Evelyn had made great progress in ruling her own spirit she was well aware of her failings. She was quite sure, in her own mind, that never again would the love of beautiful clothes tempt her to dishonesty, but of herself, in other respects, she was not so positive. Still she had resolved to live up to the traditions of Overton College, to emulate the splendid example Grace Harlowe had already set.
She glanced speculatively at her roommate, but the latter’s calm, impassive expression told her nothing. Suddenly, as though impelled by Evelyn’s gaze, the other girl glanced up and met Evelyn’s eyes squarely. “Well, what do you think of me?” she inquired. “I think you are the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
Evelyn flushed at both the question and the compliment. Jean Brent was nothing if not frank. “I know I’m going to like you. I was just wondering if we would fit into each other’s lives.”
“I have a frightful temper,” admitted Jean Brent somberly. “Sometimes I’m glad of it. If I hadn’t—” She paused.
Evelyn waited for her to continue, but she gave a quick sigh, and, springing to her feet, walked to the window. From there she could look out at the campus, still green and velvety. For at least five minutes she stood staring out. Then, with the air of one who casts aside a disagreeable memory, she turned from the window, saying: “I’m going to forget everything except the fact that I’m actually an Overton girl.”
“Were you anxious to come to Overton?” asked Evelyn.
“No. I came here because of the advantages Harlowe House offers. I heard of it through a friend. I wanted to go to Smith, but—oh, well, here I am at Overton. Let’s talk about you. I know you are interesting. You look just like the picture of a girl I saw in a magazine I was reading on the train. She is an actress. I didn’t stop to read her name, but I loved her picture. I think I brought the magazine along. Oh, yes, there it is.” She reached for the magazine, which lay on the table, and turned the leaves energetically. “Here is the picture,” she declared. Evelyn found herself gazing at her own likeness. She began to laugh.