SON OF THE WIND
"Did you have a good time last night?" she asked. She almost faltered it.
"Yes, very good indeed. There were some new people there. I danced with them mostly."
"I thought you would dance mostly with Bert," said her mother.
The girl looked as if she suspected intention in this remark, and resented it. "He didn't dance at all. He wasn't there a good part of the time. He only came back to drive me home."
Her right arm rested on the table. The hand was tanned to a soft brown, very smooth and fine in texture, with five dimples, where most women show knuckles, and round finger-tips. Carron could see the wrist white and punctuated with a dimple. The rest was hidden in a starched sleeve. Still, he knew it must be the arm enchanted.
The owner of it, unaware of what had been his last night's vision, ate for a few moments before offering her next remark. "I think Bert was feeling ill. He wasn't like himself." She fixed a challenging gaze on her mother's face. "Sometimes I am afraid that Bert isn't quite steady."
Mrs. Rader's lips opened for reply, but she checked herself, no doubt because of the stranger. A current of hostility was in the air. The scholar raised his eyes. His look had no connection with
66
