"I just said that to punish
you. No, I'll be very lonesome here but I will _not_ send for Beryl.
We'll get along someway. If I only were not rich, everything would go
all right, wouldn't it, Mr. Harkness?"
"Well, I don't just get your meaning but I will. And I guess so, Missy.
And now what do you say to a bite of breakfast--fetched hot from the
kitchen to your own sunny room?"
Robin knew she would break the old man's heart if she refused his
service so she climbed back up the stairs to the sunny window of the
deserted sitting-room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And as she
sat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia, sitting straight among
the cushions of the chaise longue, staring at her with faded, unblinking
eyes. Beryl had not taken the doll!
A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. Beryl had _wanted_ to
make her feel badly. But why--oh, what had she done?
"You can stay there, Cynthia. _I_ won't touch you," she cried, turning
to the window, and at the same time she registered the vow in her heart
that by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl know how her
desertion had hurt her.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254