Elfreda and Emma might fill their own particular niches in Wayne Hall, but there was only one Grace Harlowe.
"How I shall miss you, Grace," she said with sudden irrelevance to the subject of Emma.

"I shall miss you more than any other girl in college, except Ruth, when I go to New York for good and all." "I forbid you to mention the subject," cried Grace, her fine face clouding.

"We mustn't even think of it.

Oh, listen, Arline! The orchestra has begun that Strauss waltz I like so well.

I'm going to put these clumsy old andirons over in the corner; then we'll dance and forget that we are seniors and must pay the penalty." It was almost twelve o'clock when the Famous Fiction dance came to a triumphant end, and the illustrious book heroes and heroines wended their midnight way toward their various houses and boarding places.