“Did Selma know last year she was not going to finish college?” asked Muriel. “If I had gone through three years of my college course I wouldn’t give up the last and most important year just to be married.”
“That is because you know nothing about love,” teased Ronny.
“Do you?” challenged Muriel.
“I do not. I have a good deal more sentiment than you have though,” retorted Ronny. “I can appreciate Selma’s sacrifice at the shrine of love.”
“So could I if I knew more about it,” Muriel flung back.
“Precisely what I said to you. So glad you agree with me,” chuckled Ronny.
“I don’t agree with you at all. I meant if I knew more about what you were pleased to call ‘Selma’s sacrifice,’ not love.” Muriel’s emphasis of the last word proclaimed her disdain of the tender passion.
“Hear the geese converse,” commented Leila. “Let me tell you both that Selma had to lose either college or her fiancé for two years. He was ordered to the Philippines to take charge of a naval station on one of the islands. They were to have been married anyway as soon as she was graduated from Hamilton. As it was she chose to go with him. So Selma gained a husband and lost her seniorship and we lost Selma. I shall miss her, for a finer girl never lived.”
“Nella will miss her most of all,” Vera said quickly. “We must try to make it up to Nella by taking her around with us a lot.”
They had by this time reached the Hall. Girl-like they lingered on the steps, enjoying the light night breeze that had sprung up in the last hour. Marjorie’s old friend, the chimes, had rung out the stroke of eleven before they reached the Hall. College having not yet opened officially, they claimed the privilege of keeping a little later hours.