CHAPTER XII
ROBIN WRITES A LETTER
Cornelius Allendyce had returned to New York from Gray Manor with his
mind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. His
associates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him and
they often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling
himself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far from
fields of law.
Cornelius Allendyce _did_ feel pleased with himself. How many men would
have dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it had
all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest," living in her past,
her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little
Robin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned out
so surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking,
in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not want
to--he liked to think it all over.
Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human race
of which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were all
alike--pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves like
kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain.
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