SON OF THE WIND
looked a little puzzled by Carron's cynical regard. "It's really very good, '84," he murmured. He hesitated, sent an inquiring glance at his daughter, just darted and withdrawn. She paid no attention to it; didn't seem to see it. "And by the way," he said, still more pointedly to Carron, "if you have any time to-morrow afternoon, won't you come in and see my Spectators? First edition, they are as worth while looking at as anything you can see."
This was awkward. "I should be delighted, but I'm afraid I shall be away."
"O, take a day off between whiles. You're played out. A couple of days ago, the day before you went, you promised me you would."
Carron recalled this. He felt himself cornered. To blurt out the facts here in the face of every one might be the ruin of Blanche's schemes. But to the devil with a woman's schemes! He was sick of them! They never accomplished anything! The fact would be out in the morning anyway. "I mean I expect to leave to-morrow, permanently," he said. "I was only to be here for a week, you know."
Rader exclaimed in astonishment. "But it's not a week; you haven't been here five days! What are you thinking of? Hermione, do you hear that?"
She looked certainly taken aback, much dismayed.
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