He dived into the tonneau, reappearing with a large leather label-spattered bag. The new arrival handed him his fare with the barest glance at him. He picked up the bag and started with it toward the veranda. She followed him, wearing an expression of such utter boredom it impressed itself upon the knot of girls to whom she was a stranger. One other point also impressed them. That point was her unusual beauty.
It seemed to Marjorie that she had never seen a girl so beautiful, and in such an unusual way. Her thick fine hair was like pale spun gold as it showed itself from under her small hat. Her skin was dazzling in its purity. Her eyes reminded Marjorie of the sea on a calm day. Only she could not be sure whether they were blue or green. Her features were not small but were admirably regular. She carried herself with the lovely, indifferent grace of a princess. Into Marjorie’s fanciful mind suddenly popped the old-time fairy-tale beginning: “Once upon a time there was a lovely princess.”
“Now whom have we here?” muttered Leila in Marjorie’s ear.
Marjorie could not reply. The girl had reached the steps and was now composedly mounting them. She paid no more attention to the group on the steps than if they had not been there. She made an authoritative motion to the taxicab driver to place her bag on the veranda floor beside the door. She found the bell and rang it, looking even more bored.
As the stranger’s fingers pressed the electric button Miss Remson stepped to her side. “I am Miss Remson, the manager of Wayland Hall. What can I do for you?” she asked courteously.
“Oh, are you Miss Remson?” She regarded the brisk, little woman with indolent blue-green eyes. Her sweet, indifferent drawl went perfectly with her unconcerned appearance. “I am Miss Monroe. You have my father’s correspondence. I am here a trifle earlier than he mentioned in his letter to you. That need not signify,” she added carelessly.
Careful not to intrude the Five Travelers had moved on down the steps and away from the Hall. Vera had parked the car farther down the drive.
“What a perfectly beautiful girl!” Marjorie softly exclaimed when they got out of earshot of the Hall.
“I suppose she’s a would-be,” speculated Vera. “Still, she can’t be. Miss Remson said yesterday that she didn’t intend to take any would-be’s until the week before the entrance exams. Then, only those who had applied for board at Wayland Hall. She never takes stray would-be’s.”