SON OF THE WIND
SON OF THE WIND except yourself. Besides us, there is no one else concerned in it."
"Yes, there is," Ferrier burst out, "and we both know it! She is! You come to me and you pretend it's because you don't want to deal with her—O, no! you've got too fine a sense of honor! You want to leave her out of it? Why, my God," his voice soared, "she won't tell you! Don't I know? Do yer think I'd ever have given her away if I had thought you could fool her into it? But you can't! And now, do yer think I'm going to risk telling you myself, and risk her turning me down? Yes,—wouldn't she, though! She'd throw me over, like a sack of old meal, if I told about that infernal horse! But I'm not going to give her the chance! I'll play second fiddle until it's gone. Won't be much longer till the rains—and then you'll see!"
Carron had involuntarily loosed hold of him and Ferrier was backing away, down the road, step by step, his voice rising as he retreated. "And you needn't think because she was so pleasant and made so much of you this evening, that it means a thing. She's that way with every one. She doesn't care a flip of her finger about you! Hang around, and ask as much as you like. You'll see!" He turned and began to run.
For a moment Carron entertained the idea of fol-
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