"It is all right, Jerry. I see that it can never be, but I shall always care for you deeply," she said with nobility.
When they came to the school Jerry left her with a deep sigh of relief. She certainly was too much for him. He was no longer surprised that Max and Wally avoided the problem.
There certainly was no fatted calf killed for the return of the prodigal in Miss Vantine's school. At her reappearance an air of chastened endurance settled upon all the teachers from Miss Vantine down to the elocution teacher. But their fears were doomed to disappointment, because Isabelle was for the time being absorbed in her unrequited love affair.
She walked through her lessons like one in a trance; she devoted all her leisure, and some of her study hours, to a series of daily letters to the object of her passion. Most of these raptures were never to meet his eye, but they furnished an outlet for the girl's over-full heart, and to the psychologist they would have proved interesting. To her schoolmates she was, as ever, an enigma.
"What is the matter with you, Isabelle? Trying to get one hundred in deportment?" they teased her.
"I have larger things to think of, than deportment," she answered, airily.
"She's in love again," scoffed Margie Hunter.
"He is a great artist whose name is sacred to me."
"Not so handsome as Shelley Hull, or Jack Barrymore," they protested.
"Do have him come here. Couldn't we ask Miss Vantine to get him to lecture on art?"
"He hasn't time. He goes from function to function. Many women love him, he's a great social favourite," boasted Isabelle.
This distinction set her apart as never before. She went among them as one baptized with greatness. When in the course of their daily walks with a teacher, they encountered a personable young man, Isabelle's eyes would never swerve in his direction. When there were midnight spreads, Isabelle did not care for food, or she had her letter to write.
"Isabelle, will you marry him as soon as you graduate from here?" Margie inquired.
"Oh, no. I expect to spend years at work in the arts before I am worthy of him."
"It is not decided. I may paint, or sing, or act."
"But you haven't any talent for painting or singing."
"You never can tell, Margie. I've had no chance ta show what I can do. Besides, I _can_ act."