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I feel strongly inclined to include the moon lazily declining now towards the ambush of a tumulus-shaped hill, crowned, as is the manner of that country, with a pert little top-knot of trees. "Complicated or simplified?" I suggested. "Complicated; damnably complicated," he replied irritably. "Brenda's a little fool. It isn't as if she were in earnest."
Brenda's pony, Gypsy, was her own property, purchased soon after she joined her uncle in Colorado. As my station and Frank's were with the rear-guard, or along the flanks of the train, Miss Brenda commonly rode with us after daylight. Henry, after leaving Fort Wingate, rode with the advance.
That such a simile should have been possible to Gerald shows how much the expression of Brenda's face centered attention on itself, for her white serge dress was in the fashion of that year, and it was not a fashion to be remembered with any artistic joy. Gerald was never reconciled to it. He had the power to detach himself and at will see persons as if he looked at them for the first time.
I leapt out of bed, got some water in a basin and knelt down beside her, but she was already stiff, her teeth were clenched, and she showed a horribly distorted mask. A horrid suspicion awoke in my mind. I searched with my torch on the floor where my Lady had dropped the powder, and I could plainly see the wet edge of Brenda's tongue and the smudge of the white powder which she had licked up.
He looked serious-minded, almost somber, and Leslie, though prepared to be vivacious with peer or pauper, found it all duty and little fun to make conversation with him until the next arrival should come to her relief. The gentleman was Brenda's adorer, but Brenda would never, if she could help it, let him have one moment with her. His love-charged eye inspired in her the simple desire to flee.
Sending Clary back a few yards to light up a palm, I fixed my eyes on the object mentioned, and as the flames leaped up the trunk perceived by the flaring light a small, white hand, holding in its fingers the loose tresses of Brenda's hair. The question was settled. The captive girl was in the third tent from the right of the line.
He's got a strain of Jervaise-worship in him, somewhere." "A very strong strain, just now," I suggested. She laughed. "Yes, he's Brenda's slave; always will be," she said. "But I don't count her as a Jervaise. She's an insurgée like me against her own family. She'd do anything to get away from them." "Well, she will now," I said, "and your brother, too." That seemed to annoy her.
She is right, and all we've got to hope for now is that the Earl will be right too," said his wife somewhat anxiously. "He's just got to see our girl and then he will be, unless he's a natural born idiot, which, of course, he couldn't be," replied Brenda's father in a tone of absolute conviction. "Now, I wonder what that man Marmion's going to let loose on us to-morrow night?"
"Then you don't honestly believe that she's in love with Banks?" I asked, remembering his "I don't know. How can any one know," of a few minutes earlier. "She's so utterly unreliable in every way," he equivocated. "She always has been. She isn't the least like the rest of us." "Don't you count yourself as another exception?" I asked. "Not in that way, Brenda's way," he said.
"Indeed, I shan't," I protested, although I had to say it in a tone that practically confirmed this talk of ours as a perfectly genuine flirtation. "Men have such queer ideas of honour in these things," she went on with a recovering confidence. "Do you mean that you peeped," I said. "Into Brenda's room?" She made a moue that I ought to have found fascinating, nodding emphatically.
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