So I must keep you until St. Pierre comes. I don't know
what to do--except to keep you, and not let you escape until then.
What would you do?"
The question was so honest, so like a question that might have
been asked by a puzzled child, that his argument for the Law was
struck dead. He stared into the pale face, the beautiful, waiting
eyes, saw the pathetic intertwining of her slim fingers, and
suddenly he was grinning in that big, honest way which made people
love Dave Carrigan.
"You're--doing--absolutely--right," he said.
A swift change came in her face. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes
filled with a sudden glow that made the little violet-freckles in
them dance like tiny flecks of gold.
"From your point of view you are right," he repeated, "and I shall
make no attempt to escape until I have talked with St. Pierre. But
I can't quite see--just now--how he is going to help the
situation."
"He will," she assured him confidently.
"You seem to have an unlimited faith in St. Pierre," he replied a
little grimly.
"Yes, M'sieu David. He is the most wonderful man in the world. And
he will know what to do."
David shrugged his shoulders.
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