SON OF THE WIND
been caught in the woven net of sweetness and careless disdain. The letters, which were brought up now by the boy George, included usually one or two for her—letters, most of which bore the postmarks of cities in the state; but sometimes one showed an Italian stamp or a Cuban, or that its journey was from the far north. She would smile faintly over the open page; then look up with a laugh to read him a line, or give him a sketch of the writer. This lady was living at Nice. She was trying to decide whether it would be safe to divorce her husband, because there was a chance that, then, her friend might not marry her.
This man was a retired seaman, who had made his money in smuggling opium. His letter began: "Miss Rader: Miss," which delighted her, and was a prospectus of the writer's perfections and virtues with a guarded query as to the possibility of marriage. At the idea of becoming a smuggleress—as she put it—Blanche fell into such laughter that she found it difficult to make Carron understand that the writer of a certain third letter was a quite eminent geologist, who wanted very much another specimen of a stone. He felt sure she must remember it. It was in the middle of a rocky ledge, down a declivity, just over the hill from the hotel. She could, he said, procure it easily by being lowered a little distance—ten feet—
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