“I have seen worse ranches,” Jerry conceded with a grin. “Speaking of ranches reminds me of the West. The West reminds me of Ronny. Ronny promised to help me with my French tonight. Mind if I leave you? Such partings wring the heart; mine I mean. You go galavanting off to tea with no regard for my feelings.” Jerry gave a bad imitation of a sob, giggled, and began gathering up her books.
“I’ll try to have more consideration for your feelings hereafter,” Marjorie assured, a merry twinkle in her eyes.
“I’ll believe that when I see signs of reform,” Jerry threw back over her shoulder as she exited.
Left alone, Marjorie tried to shut out the memory of Hamilton Arms and settle down to her studying. The fascination the old house held for her remained with her long after she had left it behind her on her now fairly frequent visits there. Nicely launched on the tide of psychology, an uncertain rapping at the door startled her from her absorption of the subject in hand. It flashed across her as she rose to answer the knocking that it had been done by an unfamiliar hand. None of the girls she knew rapped on the door in that weak, hesitating fashion.
As she swung open the door she made no effort to force back the expression of complete astonishment which she knew had appeared on her face. Her caller was Dulcie Vale.
CHAPTER XXIII—AN AMAZING PROPOSAL
“I—are you alone, Miss Dean? I would like to talk with you, but not unless you are alone.” Dulcie spoke just above a whisper, peering past Marjorie into the room so far as she could see from where she was standing.
“Yes, I am alone. Miss Macy will not be back for an hour, perhaps. Will you come in, Miss Vale?” Marjorie endeavored to make the invitation courteous. She could not feign cordiality.
“I am glad you are alone.” This idea seemed uppermost in Dulcie’s mind. “I know you don’t like me, Miss Dean. You haven’t any reason to after the way you were treated by the Sans last Saint Valentine’s night. Of course, I know you know who we were that night.” She paused, as though considering what to say next.
“I saw no faces, but I knew Miss Cairns’ and Miss Weyman’s voices,” Marjorie said with a suspicion of stiffness. She was not pleased to hear Dulcie preface her remarks with implied aspersions against the Sans. She knew that the latter had quarreled with her. She guessed that pique might have actuated the call.