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Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924

"The Head of the House of Coombe"

"They're not children at
all!"
"Everybody's horrid but you and Mademoiselle," cried Robin, brokenly.
She held the wrists harder and ended in a sort of outburst. "If
my father were alive--could he bring a divorce suit----And would
Lord Coombe----"
Dowson burst into open tears. And then, so did Robin. She dropped
Dowson's wrists and threw her arms around her waist, clinging to
it in piteous repentance.
"No, I won't!" she cried out. "I oughtn't to try to make you tell
me. You can't. I'm wicked to you. Poor Dowie--darling Dowie! I
want to KISS you, Dowie! Let me--let me!"
She sobbed childishly on the comfortable breast and Dowie hugged
her close and murmured in a choked voice,
"My lamb! My pet lamb!"



CHAPTER XIX


Mademoiselle Valle and Dowson together realized that after this
the growing up process was more rapid. It always seems incredibly
rapid to lookers on, after thirteen. But these two watchers felt
that, in Robin's case, it seemed unusually so. Robin had always
been interested in her studies and clever at them, but, suddenly,
she developed a new concentration and it was of an order which her
governess felt denoted the secret holding of some object in view.
She devoted herself to her lessons with a quality of determination
which was new. She had previously been absorbed, but not determined.
She made amazing strides and seemed to aspire to a thoroughness
and perfection girls did not commonly aim at--especially at the
frequently rather preoccupied hour of blossoming.


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