SON OF THE WIND
shall have to go back." She seemed to interrogate as to whether the two men would accompany her.
The print of her fingers was still warm in Carron's palm, the brief part she had played of principal in his drama keen in his fancy, the impulse was, follow! But Rader was the person his logic wanted, and Rader showed no disposition to move from the spot where he stood. He put thumb and finger into his pocket, drew out a little yellow-bowled pipe, lit it and leaned back against the edge of the well. "You will have to hurry, won't you?" he asked his daughter.
"Don't let us detain you," Carron said.
She gave an amused, puzzled glance, as if she thought her father's behavior a little odd. "Very well," she said, "then, since you're so good, I will run."
She did not turn back along the way they had come, but dipped into the wood where the hill rose steepest, running like a lapwing, enjoying the quick motion, smiling as she darted among the trees. Golden-brown and white in the sun, and dusky white and dark-brown in shadow, she retreated up the irregular aisle of branches, and Carron, watching her flight, wondered. A woman like that, long-throated, light moving, pliant and elusive! When she had frowned on him, asking if she were a
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