"
"Amazing lack of filial affection," said Lord Coombe.
He was not laughing like the rest and he was looking down at Robin.
She thought him ugly and wicked looking. Vesey and Harrowby were
beautiful by contrast. Before she knew who he was, she disliked
him. She looked at him askance under her eyelashes, and he saw her
do it before her mother spoke his name, taking her by the tips of
her fingers and leading her to him.
"Come and let Lord Coombe look at you," she said. So it revealed
itself to her that it was he--this ugly one--who had done it, and
hatred surged up in her soul. It was actually in the eyes she
raised to his face, and Coombe saw it as he had seen the sidelong
glance and he wondered what it meant.
"Shake hands with Lord Coombe," Feather instructed.
"If you can make a curtsey, make one." She turned her head over
her shoulders, "Have you taught her to curtsey, Andrews?"
But Andrews had not and secretly lost temper at finding herself made
to figure as a nurse who had been capable of omission. Outwardly
she preserved rigid calm.
"I'm afraid not, ma'am. I will at once, if you wish it."
Coombe was watching the inner abhorrence in the little face. Robin
had put her hand behind her back--she who had never disobeyed since
she was born! She had crossed a line of development when she had
seen glimpses of the new world through Donal's eyes.
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