SON OF THE WIND
been here longer than we have. I've known Bert. ever since I was a child." They were walking again, still on the main road, with unending trees around them, and with motion her good humor was returning.
The drama just enacted on the drive had interested Carron, and pricked his curiosity far more than he had shown. What was the girl's mind toward the man on the road, and why, taking the gold piece from her, should the fellow turn upon her such a face. He looked at her himself, and looking thought, "She certainly isn't pretty. She's less—or more." Aloud he said, "And have you lived here long?"
"Eight years. The new house has been built since then," she mused. "Of course, the old drawing-rooms were impossible. Their woodwork was rotted, but I was sorry when they tore down the old ball-room."
"The ball-room?" Carron repeated, with an involuntary survey of the solemn prospect of trees.
"Yes, I liked it." Her white teeth flashed at the memory. "It was so funny, and so grand. Leslie de Shallener, the dancer—did you ever hear of her?—she was up here the first summer we had the place; and one night she took me into the ball-room where we were all alone, and no light but moonlight, and
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