“Seven,” she counted in consternation, sentiment fading to dismay. “And I’ve not started to change my riding togs yet. I’ll surely have to hurry.”
Half past seven was the dinner hour at Manaña. Marjorie dropped a light kiss upon Hal’s letter and hurriedly deposited it in a drawer of the dressing table. She plumped down on a cushioned stool and began a quick removing of her riding boots. By twenty minutes after seven she was deftly hooking her slim form into a sleeveless white faille frock, charmingly embroidered with little clusters of rosy double daisies. It had been a present to her from Leila who was abroad with Vera, and had come from “L’harmonie” the most exclusive shop in Paris. Marjorie, full of devotion toward Hal, had picked out the gown to wear down to dinner as somehow expressing her best in her happiness.
“Five minutes to spare.” She closed the last snap with satisfaction. “I could do my hair a little smoother, but it’s pretty fair, Bean, pretty fair.” She said this last aloud, laughing a little. It brought pleasant memories of Jerry Macy.
She reopened the drawer, holding Hal’s letter with intent to read it again. Then she remembered the other letter in the pocket of her riding coat and went smiling into the small adjoining dressing room for it. She was chipping open an end of its envelope when Ronny knocked on the door.
“Come,” Marjorie called.
Ronny opened the door and entered, her individually charming self in a crystal-beaded white frock of chiffon.
“I forgot all about this letter.” Marjorie held up the square envelope. “I—you see—the other was from Hal, and——”
“I understand perfectly.” Mischief gleamed in Ronny’s gray eyes. The two girls laughed. “Go ahead and read the one Hal didn’t write. I give you permission. Three minutes yet until the dinner ring.”
“Thank you, kind Ronny.” Marjorie made Ronny a gay little obeisance. “I haven’t the least idea who it’s from.” Marjorie now had the letter out of the envelope and was searching it for the signature. She found it, stared at it in surprise, then cried: “This letter is from Leslie Cairns. Pardon me while I read it.” A moment or two and she dropped into a chair, glancing up at Ronny rather helplessly.
“Why, she has written the last thing I’d expect her to write!” she exclaimed wonderingly.