"
"No," said Robin in a small strange voice and without moving her
gaze. "She didn't KNOW."
He had seated himself on a sort of low marble stool near her and
he held a knee with clasped hands. They were hands which held each
other for the moment with a sort of emotional clinch. His position
made him look upward at her instead of down.
"It was YOU I was wild about," he said. "You see it was YOU. I
could have stood it for myself. The trouble was that I felt I was
such a big little chap. I thought I was years--ages older than
you--and mountains bigger," his faint laugh was touched with pity
for the smallness of the big little chap. "You seemed so tiny and
pretty--and lonely."
"I was as lonely as a new-born bird fallen out of its nest."
"You had told me you had 'nothing.' You said no one had ever kissed
you. I'd been loved all my life. You had a wondering way of fixing
your eyes on me as if I could give you everything--perhaps it was
a coxy little chap's conceit that made me love you for it--but
perhaps it wasn't."
"You WERE everything," Robin said--and the mere simpleness of
the way in which she said it brought the garden so near that he
smelt the warm hawthorn and heard the distant piano organ and it
quickened his breath.
"It was because I kept seeing your eyes and hearing your laugh
that I thought my heart was bursting. I knew you'd go and wait for
me--and gradually your little face would begin to look different.
Pages:
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440