While Natalie Weyman had cultivated Leslie assiduously at college because of her unlimited purse and flagrant disregard for rules, she had grown to like Leslie for herself. Because she was thoroughly selfish she inwardly approved of Leslie’s calloused selfishness. After the Sans’ expulsion from college she had not failed to keep in touch with Leslie.
At present she was entertaining Leslie at “Wavecrest,” the Weyman’s Newport villa. Leslie had arrived there only three days before with the drawling announcement: “I may stay, if you can rustle up some excitement.” Natalie had gladly promised “the excitement” in the shape of a round of smart social events. Now with her plans nicely formulated Leslie had ungratefully taken it into her head to go to Hamilton.
“I’ll say it once more. Be sure you get it this time. I may run my garage myself.”
“You wouldn’t.” Natalie shook an unbelieving head.
“Why not?” Leslie coolly returned. “Think what an opportunity I’d have to keep a line on the knowledge shop.”
“Why should you care what goes on there now?” Natalie cried in exasperation. “You’re out of it, and ought to be glad of it. I am, I’m finding out every day that no one really in society cares much whether one was graduated from college or not. Smart schools for girls count for more.”
“I care, but not in the way you think.” Leslie suddenly swung her feet from the chaise longue to the floor. She sat very straight and viewed her chum somberly. “I don’t care a hoot for Hamilton because it is Hamilton,” she continued, her voice gruff. “It’s Bean’s performances that interest me. Not one of the Sans lost out as I did in getting the sack from Hamilton. I lost my father. He’s the only person I know that I ever loved. I like you, Nat, even though we can’t keep on affable terms five minutes at a stretch. But I _worship_ my father.” Leslie’s heavy features went from merely heavy to downcast. “Bean is to blame for everything that went against me at Hamilton,” was her sulky accusation.
“Oh, Les, you know that is ridiculous—to blame even that little prig for _everything_!” Natalie had truth enough in her shallow composition to realize the utter fallacy of such a statement.
“She was there, wasn’t she? Well, then, what more do you want?” Leslie did not wait for her friend to answer her questions. “Bean was a disturber. I knew she would be the instant I first saw her. I did what I could to keep her down, but she bobbed up on every corner. Her crowd stuck to her; mine double-crossed me. She won; I lost my sheepskin and—my father. I’m not likely to forget that. She butted into the way the Sans had things regulated at Hamilton and tried to turn an exclusive college into a public school. She did it purposely. That makes her responsible, her and her Beanstalks, for _everything_. I chose to look at it in that way. So I’m going back to dear old Hamilton to mind my own business and maybe snarl up Bean’s affairs a trifle. What?”