“Sorry,” Kathie’s one word of regret spoke volumes.
“So am I,” echoed Robin. “I’m going home with Marjorie at Christmas if I can. I know you girls will have a gorgeous time.”
As the five took places in the car they talked of the trip Leila had planned to Sanford and of the engagements they had made previous to Wednesday. On Monday evening Miss Remson and the five post graduates were to be entertained at dinner by President and Mrs. Matthews. Tuesday afternoon and evening were to be spent at Hamilton Arms. What with luncheon at Baretti’s on Monday at one o’clock and luncheon the next day at the Lotus their time was well filled.
While the roadster was traveling the stretch of highway which formed a complete southern boundary of the college campus the chums again happened upon Miss Monroe. To see her was to admire her beauty afresh without inquiring into her failings. The sleeveless frock she wore, a delicate French creation of pale green silk and filmy white net, served to enhance the astonishing whiteness of her throat, shoulders and arms. Under the pale green lining of a white parasol which she held between herself and the too-ardent sun, her eyes shone forth, deeply mysteriously green. There was artistry in the rather simple waving and coiffing of her spun gold hair. White silk stockings and white suede slippers completed a costume which made her appear so charmingly lovely the chums found themselves regretting her lack of sociability.
“It is too bad not to ask her to go with us,” Marjorie said in a low tone to Leila. “I imagine she is out for a walk today because she is lonely.”
“Let us see. I will be the first to disregard my own advice.” Leila rose to the occasion wholly to please Marjorie.
“Oh, Leila, I’d rather you——”
Leila leaned forward and said: “Stop the wagon, Midget.” She flashed Marjorie a smile of utter good humor. “Don’t worry, Beauty. I shall not groan with broken bones.”
Miss Monroe was strolling along the time-worn stone walk of the college which lay between the highway and the campus wall. On the other side of the highway was only a footpath. Her attention fixed on the opposite side of the highway she had not noted the stopping of the roadster. She turned her eyes ahead only when she had come up within a few feet of it. Her face darkened with annoyance. She half turned as though about to bolt in an opposite direction. Then she tossed her blonde head and advanced along the walk.
“Good afternoon, Miss Monroe,” Leila leaned out of the car. “We’re off for a ride and dinner at Orchard Inn. Won’t you come with us?” Leila conscientiously endeavored to put persuasive friendliness into the invitation.