He closed his book with a forefinger
inserted to mark the place, and leaned forward a trifle.
"What is it, Sophie?" he asked gently. "Eh?"
The girl, like her father, and for that matter the majority of those
who dwelt in that region, wore moccasins. She sat now, rubbing the damp,
bead-decorated toe of one on top of the other, her hands resting idle in
the lap of her cotton dress. She seemed scarcely to hear, but Carr
waited patiently. She continued to look at him with that peculiar,
puzzled quality in her eyes.
"Tommy Ashe wants me to marry him," she said at last.
The faint flush on her smooth cheeks deepened. The glow in her eyes gave
way altogether to that vaguely troubled expression.
Carr stroked his short beard reflectively.
"Well," he said at length, "seeing that human nature's what it is, I
can't say I'm surprised any more than I would be surprised at the trees
leafing out in spring. And, as it happens, Tommy observed the
conventions of his class in this matter. He asked me about it a few days
ago. I referred him to you. Are you going to?"
"I don't know, Dad," she murmured.
"Do you want to?" he pursued the inquiry in a detached, impersonal tone.
"I don't know," she repeated soberly.
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