The House of the Falcon
changed the topic, and did not know that her bare throat and her face had turned a shade rosier. "What else have you hidden in it?"
"Pandora! I forbid you to look." Donovan spoke lightly, his eyes still resting on the glory of her hair. Yet he meant what he said. It was characteristic of the man to expect attention and obedience when he spoke. This naturally piqued the girl who did not understand that those who have been much alone in the waste places of the world have become a law unto themselves.
Not that Donovan was silent with her. He loved to hear her talk, enjoying her low, almost drawling voice and her quick wit.
The man was a puzzle to Edith. Seemingly an ally of the natives of Yakka Arik, his name was still known throughout India. When he shook off his mood of silent introspection, his manners were those of a gentleman. He was educated, possessed a taste for Shelley, Lamartine, and Catullus—a combination of the poets that took Edith out of her depth. Yet he seemed to be little more than a wandering adventurer—certainly without home ties.
"Don't you realize," she pointed out, "that it is dangerous to forbid a woman to—look?"
"But the box is my treasure house. I do not intend to be plundered."
"What if I look for the mirror?"
"I cede that to you. Aravang has put it in your—apartment."
They were speaking lightly, avoiding—as Edith thought—the mention of the realities of Yakka Arik—her captivity, his status in the world, and what the future held in store for her.
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