SON OF THE WIND
The soft, insistent sound of his knuckles upon the wood, so close to her, evidently had become more than her nerves could bear. Suddenly she flung open the door. The dog sprang, leaping upon her; up, and, falling back, up again with the tireless resurgence of a fountain. Carron stood still. "What do you want?" she repeated, still in that smothered voice, as if some muffling thing was invisibly across her mouth. She looked at him and she did not look at him.
"Come down-stairs," he said.
She made a negative motion of the head.
"Come along," he insisted, "I have something to say to you."
His voice, so calmly taking it for granted that she would; his face, which revealed something of his crisis, seemed to make her obstinacy hesitate. "No. I should have to see people."
"No; you will only see me. We'll go outside." He took her by the hand, drew her through the door and closed it after her. But, alone with him in the hall, she seemed to be taken with a keener, more incoherent alarm.
"I can't go down! I can't go out! I'm afraid that some one will see us!" He looked at her in amazement—she, so independent, so sure of herself, to fall into a panic.
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