SON OF THE WIND
arm of a child, youthful though it was. It had been a thing of long curves and of a well covered turn of elbow; an arm that had found its power, concealing it cunningly in dimples; no doubt, Carron thought, an arm to strangle reason. It had risen as magically before him as ever the arm of the Lady of the Lake had risen to the king in the legend. The same feeling of irritation stirred in him that had crept in his veins the night before when it had appeared before him as the thing he had not expected, and certainly the last thing he had wanted. He was not in the least averse to the idea of a child about the place. Children, even half-grown girls, are pleasant companions and content with little attention; but a young woman might be very much in the way. Women could always be depended on to turn up at the wrong moment when a man was interested in something else, had to get through in a hurry, and wanted a clear gangway.
A clear gangway in this business was what he had not, thus far, been able to find. Not an opening but had ended in a cul-de-sac; not a person he wanted but, just as he thought his finger was upon them, turned out to be some other person. He hardly thought he could blame Rader for this. In the disappointment of last night his own over-eager imagination had led him astray; and certainly, he
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