She was not taking upon
herself a merely benevolent duty which might assume weight and
become a fatigue. In fact she might trust Coombe for that. After
all it was he who had virtually educated the child--little as she
was aware of the singular fact. It was he who had dragged her
forth from her dog kennel of a top floor nursery and quaintly
incongruous as it seemed, had found her a respectable woman for a
nurse and an intelligent person for a governess and companion as
if he had been a domesticated middle class widower with a little
girl to play mother to. She saw in the situation more than others
would have seen in it, but she saw also the ironic humour of it.
Coombe--with the renowned cut of his overcoat--the perfection of
his line and scarcely to be divined suggestions of hue--Coombe!
She did not avoid all mention of his name during the interview, but
she spoke of him only casually, and though the salary she offered
was an excellent one, it was not inordinate. Robin could not feel
that she was not being accepted as of the class of young persons
who support themselves self-respectingly, though even the most
modest earned income would have represented wealth to her ignorance.
Before they parted she had obtained the position so pleasantly
described by Mademoiselle Valle as being something like that of
a young lady in waiting. "But I am really a companion and I will
do everything--everything I can so that I shall be worth keeping,"
she thought seriously.
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