"What's the matter?" came a deep voice, and feeling the pull on her arm
she got to her knees with a strangled whisper for silence. When the
light fell across her, he gave a smothered cry, jerked her to her feet
and thrust his hand into her hair, drawing her head back till her face
was uplifted to his.
There was no one to see, and he let his eyes feed full upon it, a thief
with the coveted treasure in his hands. She seemed unconscious of him,
a broken thing without sense or volition, till a stir came from the
tent. Then he felt her resist his grasp. She put a hand on his breast
and pressed herself back from him.
"Hush," she breathed. "Daddy John's in there."
A shadow ran up the canvas wall, bobbing on it, huge and wavering. She
turned her head toward it, the tears on her cheeks glazed by the light.
He watched her with widened nostrils and immovable eyes. In the mutual
suspension of action that held them he could feel her heart beating.
"Well?" came the doctor's voice.
The old servant answered:
"There weren't no parsons anywhere, I've been all over and there's not
one."
"Parsons?" Courant breathed.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376