What the child Robin knew in the dark perhaps the silent house
which echoed her might curiously have known. But the shrieks wore
themselves out at last and sobs came--awful little sobs shuddering
through the tiny breast and shaking the baby body. A baby's sobs
are unspeakable things--incredible things. Slower and slower
Robin's came--with small deep gasps and chokings between--and when
an uninfantile druglike sleep came, the bitter, hopeless, beaten
little sobs went on.
But Feather's head was still burrowed under the soft protection
of the pillow.
CHAPTER V
The morning was a brighter one than London usually indulges in
and the sun made its way into Feather's bedroom to the revealing
of its coral pink glow and comfort. She had always liked her bedroom
and had usually wakened in it to the sense of luxuriousness it
is possible a pet cat feels when it wakens to stretch itself on
a cushion with its saucer of cream awaiting it.
But she did not awaken either to a sense of brightness or luxury
this morning. She had slept it was true, but once or twice when
the pillow had slipped aside she had found herself disturbed by
the far-off sound of the wailing of some little animal which had
caused her automatically and really scarcely consciously to replace
the pillow. It had only happened at long intervals because it is
Nature that an exhausted baby falls asleep when it is worn out.
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