It was unhappy, obstinate,
resenting. It wore no accustomed child look and Dowson felt rather
startled.
"I'm reading the Thorpe Divorce Case, Dowie," she answered
deliberately and distinctly.
Dowie came close to her.
"It's an ugly thing to read, my lamb," she faltered. "Don't you
read it. Such things oughtn't to be allowed in newspapers. And
you're a little girl, my own dear." Robin's elbow rested firmly
on the table and her chin firmly in her hand. Her eyes were not
like a bird's.
"I'm nearly thirteen," she said. "I'm growing up. Nobody can stop
themselves when they begin to grow up. It makes them begin to find
out things. I want to ask you something, Dowie."
"Now, lovey--!" Dowie began with tremor. Both she and Mademoiselle
had been watching the innocent "growing up" and fearing a time
would come when the widening gaze would see too much. Had it come
as soon as this?
Robin suddenly caught the kind woman's wrists in her hands and
held them while she fixed her eyes on her. The childish passion
of dread and shyness in them broke Dowson's heart because it was
so ignorant and young.
"I'm growing up. There's something--I MUST know something! I never
knew how to ask about it before." It was so plain to Dowson that
she did not know how to ask about it now. "Someone said that Lord
Coombe might have been a co-respondent in the Thorpe case----"
"These wicked children!" gasped Dowie.
Pages:
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269