She was no more a part of it than a crepe de chine
ball dress or a bit of rose china. And there she was, sitting
opposite him, a bewitching mystery for him to solve. And she
WANTED to be solved! He could see it in her eyes, and in the
little beating throb at her throat. She was fighting, with him, to
find a way; a way to tell him who she was, and why she was here,
and what he must do for her.
Suddenly he thought of the golden snare. That, after all, he
believed to be the real key to the mystery. He rose quickly from
the table and drew the girl to the window. At the far end of the
corral they could see Bram tossing chunks of meat to the horde of
beasts that surrounded him. In a moment or two he had the
satisfaction of seeing that his companion understood that he was
directing her attention to the wolf-man and not the pack. Then he
began unbraiding her hair. His fingers thrilled at the silken
touch of it. He felt his face flushing hot under his beard, and he
knew that her eyes were on him wonderingly.
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