"I suppose I'm to take that as a compliment," replied Ann.
"Anyway"--mimicking him--"I don't really think you have very much to
complain of at any time. You're one of the idle rich, you know. How would
you like it if you were obliged to keep your nose to the grindstone--like
Robin and me?"

"I shouldn't mind"--curtly--"if I could choose my grindstone."

"But that's just it! Robin can't--choose his grindstone, I mean. He's just
got to keep slogging away at anything that turns up."

Her face shadowed a little. They were very devoted to each other, she and
Robin. From their earliest childhood their father had counted for so little
in either of their lives that they had inevitably drawn closer to each
other than most brothers and sisters, and the enforced separation of the
last few years had been a sore trial to both of them.

"You're very fond of Robin," observed Tony. There was a note of envy in his
voice.

"Of course I am. If we could only afford to live together, I think I should
be absolutely happy."

He glanced at her quickly.

"Aren't you happy with Lady Susan?"

"Oh, yes, yes! No one could be kinder to me than she is. But--I miss
Robin"--rather wistfully. "You see, we've always been everything to each
other."