"May I see Robin, please?" she implored desperately.
The young woman looked at her, hesitating. "Are you Beryl?" she asked.
Beryl nodded. "Then you may go in for a few moments but don't let that
old man and woman know--they've been hounding me to let them see her and
I've refused flatly."
"Oh, thank you so much. There's something I have to tell Robin before--"
Beryl simply could not say it. She closed her lips with tragic meaning.
The nurse stared at her a moment with a hint of a laugh in her eyes,
then nodded toward the door.
"Second door, there. Only a minute!" And then she went on.
Beryl opened the door, softly, her heart pounding against her ribs. What
if Robin were too ill to talk, to even listen--
Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It took a moment for her to
single out the great canopied bed from the other mammoth
furnishings--or to take in the small figure that occupied the exact
centre of that bed.
"Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in amazement for the little
creature who smiled at her from a pile of soft pillows looked like
anything but a sick person; the vivid hair glowed with more aliveness
than ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, tinted the creamy
skin.
Pages:
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270