In the very face of it Carrigan knew that something
besides the moral obligation of the thing was urging him,
something that was becoming deeply and dangerously personal. At
least--he tried to think of it as dangerous. And that danger was
his unbecoming interest in the girl herself. It was an interest
distinctly removed from any ethical code that might have governed
him in his experience with Carmin Fanchet, for instance.
Comparatively, if they had stood together, Carmin would have been
the lovelier. But he would have looked longer at Jeanne Marie-Anne
Boulain.
He conceded the point, smiling a bit grimly as he continued to
study that part of the cabin which he could see from his pillow.
He had lost interest--temporarily at least--in Black Roger
Audemard. Not long ago the one question to which, above all
others, he had desired an answer was, why had Jeanne Marie-Anne
Boulain worked so desperately to kill him and so hard to save him
afterward? Now, as he looked about him, the question which
repeated itself insistently was, what relationship did she bear to
this mysterious lord of the north, St. Pierre?
Undoubtedly she was his daughter, for whom St.
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