He said he had
heard in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a girl, and lame,
too. He didn't know what difference it made to any of them, anyway. He
scowled a little as he said it.
Dale had his father's strong body and his mother's face of a dreamer;
his eyes were brooding like Beryl's but his mouth was wide and tender
and might have seemed weak but for the strength in the square cut jaw.
Since that time, ten years back, when he had resolutely put behind him
his precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he had
been the recognized head of the family. As such he turned to Beryl now.
"I suppose you'll let this rich little girl wipe her feet on you and
you'll love it," he said with such scorn that Beryl turned hot and cold
in speechless anger.
"Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we know the poor little
thing," begged his mother.
But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing the beads, all joy for the
moment had fled. She had particularly wanted to impress Dale with her
good fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak scathingly and
bitterly of the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness of
things in general, but she had paid little attention to it and could
not, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin.
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