Left
alone, she sat in the room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily at
the disarray left from the frenzied packing and unpacking.
Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people with
two bags full of lovely clothes would ever, _ever_ happen to her!
In fact _nothing_ exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and on
wanting things all her life.
She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envy
her, but she wished she could have just _some_ of the chances Robin
had--and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one of
Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham and
hold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughty
Alicia had no terrors for _her_, and if they tried to snub her, she'd
put her violin under her chin and then--
The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Beryl
heard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed the
stairs and stopped outside of Robin's room.
"Miss Beryl--a telegram."
"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her life
and the yellow envelope frightened her.
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