"And it is a good best." Dowie was feeling tremulous
herself though she could not have explained why. She thought that
perhaps it was because she wished that Mademoiselle could have
been with her.
Robin kissed her when the last touch had been given.
"I'm going to run down the staircase," she said. "If I let myself
walk slowly I shall have time to feel queer and shy and I might
seem to CREEP into the drawing-room. I mustn't creep in. I must
walk in as if I had been to parties all my life."
She ran down and as she did so she looked like a white bird
flying, but she was obliged to stop upon the landing before the
drawing-room door to quiet a moment of excited breathing. Still
when she entered the room she moved as she should and held her head
poised with a delicately fearless air. The Duchess--who herself
looked her best in her fine old ivory profiled way--gave her a
pleased smile of welcome which was almost affectionate.
"What a perfect little frock!" she said. "You are delightfully
pretty in it."
"Is it quite right?" said Robin. "Mademoiselle chose it for me."
"It is quite right. 'Frightfully right,' George would say. George
will sit near you at dinner. He is my grandson--Lord Halwyn you
know, and you will no doubt frequently hear him say things are
'frightfully' something or other during the evening. Kathryn will
say things are 'deevy' or 'exquig'.
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