So he finished gloomily: "And as far as I can make out, Pierre is
right. There's some rotten bad luck that follows him. It may not be
the cross--I don't suppose you believe in superstition like that,
Miss Brown?"
She said: "It saved my life."
"The cross?"
"Yes."
"Then Pierre--you mean--you met before the dance--you mean--"
He was stammering so that he couldn't finish his thoughts, and she
broke in: "If he will not come to me, then I must go to him."
"Follow Pierre le Rouge?" queried Wilbur. "You're an optimist. But
that's because you've never seen him ride. I consider it a good day's
work to start out with him and keep within sight till night, but as
for following and over-taking him--"
He laughed heartily at the thought.
And she smiled a little sadly, answering: "But I have the most
boundless patience in the world. He may gallop all the way, but I will
walk, and keep on walking, and reach him in the end."
Her hands moved out as though testing their power, gripping at the
air.
"Where will you go to hunt for him?"
"I don't know.
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