Dale says I didn't start right and maybe I didn't--but
anyway--"--She nodded toward the door as though Sophie might still be on
the threshold, "_they're_ a beginning!"
Her guardian did not answer this and looked so strange that Robin went
no further in her confidences. Perhaps something had displeased him, she
must wait until some other time to tell him about Dale and his model and
her visit to Frank Norris.
Back in the library, before the crackling fire, Robin begged Beryl to
play for her guardian.
"She's wonderful," she whispered while Beryl was getting the violin.
"She makes you feel all funny inside."
Beryl stood in the shadow and played. Robin, watching her guardian,
thrilled with satisfaction when the man's face betrayed that he, too,
felt "all funny inside" under the magic of Beryl's bow.
"Come here, my girl," he commanded when Beryl stopped. He bent a
searching look upon her. "Come here and sit down and tell me about
yourself."
"Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, triumphantly.
The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out Beryl's story--of the simple
home in the tenement from which her mother shut out all that was
coarsening and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her tastes with
dreams she persistently cherished against disheartening odds; of the
Belgian musician who had first taught her small fingers and fired her
ambitions for only the best in the art; of school and the lessons she
devoured because she craved knowledge and the advantages of possessing
it.
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