's informal greeting and
let herself be drawn into the circle.

There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere from sixteen to
twenty--three very pretty, obviously conscious of their modish garments
and wanting everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, Rosalyn
Crane, tall and tanned and strong in limb and shoulder, with frank dark
eyes and red lips which smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-white
teeth. Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and promptly
tucked Robin under her wing.

For the next several hours life moved forward for Robin at such a
dizzying pace that she felt as though she were sitting apart from her
body and watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had never dreamed
of doing before; the noisy tea-circle, the room she shared with the nice
girl, the casual welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silver
dress and the silver slippers that matched, the beautiful drawing room
so alive with color and jollity, the long table gleaming with crystal
and silver, the voices, voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shoulders
and the bright eyes and the red, red cheeks, the Japanese servants,
velvet-footed, the big, hot-house strawberries, music and dancing,
(everyone dancing but her) and then, at last, bed.

Out of the whirl stood two pleasant moments: one when Mr. Granger had
spoken to her, the other--Tom.

Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed with fine lines that
curved up when he smiled. He patted her on the shoulder and said: "A
Forsyth girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. And she was
not afraid of him and answered easily and not in the tongue-tied way she
spoke to Miss Alicia and her friends.

And Tom Granger looked like his father. He had a jolly way of talking,
too, and talked mostly to Rosalyn Crane. He had sat between her and
Robin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite comfortable by acting as
though they were old acquaintances and did not need to keep up a fire of
banter like the others.

The next morning Robin came downstairs to find the house deserted except
for the noiseless butlers who stared at her as though she were some
strange freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for Tom, coming in
from the garage, greeted her with a pleasant: "Say, you're an early
bird, aren't you?" and then directed one of the butlers to bring her
some breakfast in the sun-room.

"_You've_ got some sense. Al's crowd will miss half of this glorious
day!" he