here. I have been talking to father and I am going up to London
to try, I think, for the Diplomatic. We thought----"

But the "we" was too much for her.

"I congratulate you," she said, turning to Harry. "You have done a
great deal in three weeks. It looks," she said, looking round the
room, "almost like a conspiracy. I----" Then she suddenly broke down.
She bent down over Robin and caught his head between her hands--

"Robin--Robin dear--you must come, you must, dear. I brought you up--I
have loved you--always--always. You can't leave me now, old boy, after
all that I have done--all, everything. Why, he has done
nothing--he----"

She kissed him again and again, and caught his hands: "Robin, I love
you--you--only in all the world; you are all that I have got----"

But he put her hands gently aside. "Please--please--Aunt Clare, I am
dreadfully sorry----"

And then her pride returned to her. She walked to the door with her
head high.

"I will go to the Darcy's in London until that other house is ready. I
will go to-morrow----"

She opened the door, but Harry sprang up--

"Please, Clare--don't go like that. Think over it--perhaps
to-morrow----"

"Oh, let me go," she answered wearily; "I'm tired."

She walked up the stairs to her room. She could scarcely see--Robin
had denied her!

She shut the door of her bedroom behind her and fell at the foot of her
bed, her face buried in her hands. Then at last she burst into a storm
of tears--

"Robin! Robin!" she cried.

CHAPTER XVI

It was Christmas Eve and the Cove lay buried in snow. The sea was grey
like steel, and made no sound as it ebbed and flowed up the little
creek. The sky was grey and snowflakes fell lazily, idly, as though
half afraid to let themselves go; a tiny orange moon glittered over the
chimneys of "The Bended Thumb."

Harry came out of the Inn and stood for a moment to turn up the collar
of his coat. The perfect stillness of the scene pleased him; the world
was like the breathless moment before some great event: the opening of
Pandora's box, the leaping of armed men from the belly of the wooden
horse, the flashing of Excalibur over the mere, the birth of some
little child.

He sighed as he passed down the street. He had read in his morning
paper that the Cove was doomed. The word had gone forth, the Town
Council had decided; the Cove was to be pulled down and a street of
lodging-houses was to take its place. Pe