Chapter 31

The whole day before the party was secretly exciting to Robin.
She knew how much more important it seemed to her than it really
was. If she had been six years old she might have felt the same
kind of uncertain thrills and tremulous wonders. She hid herself
behind the window curtains in her room that she might see the
men putting up the crimson and white awning from the door to the
carriage step. The roll of red carpet they took from their van had
a magic air. The ringing of the door bell which meant that things
were being delivered, the extra moving about of servants, the
florists' men who went into the drawing-rooms and brought flowers
and big tropical plants to re-arrange the conservatory and fill
corners which were not always decorated--each and every one of
them quickened the beating of her pulses. If she had belonged in
her past to the ordinary cheerful world of children, she would
have felt by this time no such elation. But she had only known of
the existence of such festivities as children's parties because once
a juvenile ball had been given in a house opposite her mother's
and she had crouched in an almost delirious little heap by the
nursery window watching carriages drive up and deposit fluffy pink
and white and blue children upon the strip of red carpet, and had
seen them led or running into the house. She had caught sounds
of strains of music and had shivered with rapture--but Oh! what
worlds away from her the party had been.

She found her way into the drawing-rooms which were not usually thrown
open. They were lofty and stately and seemed to her immense. There
were splendid crystal-dropping chandeliers and side lights which
she thought looked as if they would hold a thousand wax candles.
There was a delightfully embowered corner for the musicians. It
was all spacious and wonderful in its beautiful completeness--its
preparedness for pleasure. She realized that all of it had always
been waiting to be used for the happiness of people who knew
each other and were young and ready for delight. When the young
Lothwells had been children they had had dances and frolicking
games with other children in the huge rooms and had kicked up
their young heels on the polished floors at Christmas parties and
on birthdays. How wonderful it must have been. But they had not
known it was wonderful.

As Dowie dressed her the reflection she saw in the mirror gave back
to her an intensified Robin whose curved lips almost quivered as
they smiled. The soft silk of her hair looked like the night and
the small rings on the back of her very slim white neck were things
to ensnare the eye and hold it helpless.

"You look your best, my dear," Dowie said as she clasped her little
necklace.