Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its case
with an angry little slam.
"I guess it _would_ be sort of," she mocked.
"What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat furiously; it had taken all
the courage she could muster to force her advance upon this girl and
Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at Beryl's scornful laugh.
"Why--we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl answered. "You're--Gordon
Forsyth. And I'm just Beryl Lynch."
Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of understanding.
"I don't see--" she began but Beryl would not let her go on. Beryl's
whole soul went out in resentment at what she suspected was
"patronizing." "Not me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, you
just _say_ you can't see. Why I'm like a servant here. Though I won't be
that way long with that old crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn't
want me to do it. But I wanted the money. And I'm going to stick it out,
much as I hate it--"
Robin watched the other girl's stormy face in an ecstasy of delight.
Here was a creature different from anyone she had ever known; almost her
own age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which she longed to
possess and knew she did not; beautifully straight and tall.
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