I'm in a bad temper too, and I
want to use language--horrid language," said Dinah, tugging viciously at
her dark hair.
Rose lowered her stately gaze and watched her for a moment. Then as
Dinah's green eyes suddenly flashed resentful enquiry upon her she
lightly touched the girl's flushed cheek, and turned away. "Poor little
Dinah!" she said.
The door closed upon her graceful figure in its old-world, sweeping robe
and Dinah whizzed round from the glass like a naughty fairy in a rage.
"Rose de Vigne, I hate you!" she said aloud, and stamped her unshod foot
upon the floor.
A period of uninterrupted misfortune followed this outburst. Everything
went wrong. The costume which the French maid had so deftly fitted upon
her that morning refused to be adjusted properly. The fastenings baffled
her, and finally a hook at the back took firm hold of the lawn of her
sleeve and maliciously refused to be disentangled therefrom.
Dinah struggled for freedom for some minutes till the lawn began to tear,
and then at last she became desperate. "Billy must do it," she said, and
almost in tears she threw open the door and ran down the passage.
Billy's room was round a corner, and this end of the corridor was dim. As
she turned it, she almost collided with a figure coming in the opposite
direction--a boyish-looking figure in evening dress which she instantly
took for Billy.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42