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BOOK I.—THE SPOILED CHILD.
145
mamma, what can become of my life? there is nothing worth living for!"
"Why, dear?" said Mrs Davilow. Usually she herself had been rebuked by her daughter for involuntary signs of despair.
"I shall never love anybody. I can't love people. I hate them."
"The time will come, dear, the time will come."
Gwendolen was more and more convulsed with sobbing; but putting her arms round her mother's neck with an almost painful clinging, she said brokenly, "I can't bear any one to be very near me but you."
Then the mother began to sob, for this spoiled child had never shown such dependence on her before: and so they clung to each other.
