It wouldn't be safe to leave
Rosemary Roselle alone here with Indy. He recalled the threat of the
black pomposity he had driven from the house--it was possible that
there were others, banded, and that they would return. It was clear to
him that he must stay until its head reappeared, order had been
reestablished--or, if he went out, take the girl with him.
"You let the capt'n do what he says," the woman urged. Rosemary
Roselle's eyes turned toward Elim; it was, seemingly, the first time
she had become aware of his presence. She said in a voice delicately
colored by hate:
"Thank you, I couldn't think of taking the--the orderly from his
conquests."
"Then I'll find your father myself," Elim replied. "You will come with
me, of course; show me where to go. It would be a good thing to start
at once. I--we--might be of some assistance to him with his tobacco."
Indy declared with an expression of instant determination:
"We'll go right along with you." She silenced Rosemary's instinctive
protest. "I'll get your hat and shawl," she told the girl.
And, before the latter could object, the colored woman hurried from the
room.
Silence enveloped the two at the table. Elim replaced his revolver in
its belt. He had never before studied a girl like Rosemary Roselle;
fine white frills fell about her elbows from under the black short
sleeves. Her skin was incredibly smooth and white. It was evident that
her hands had never done manual labor; their pointed little beauty
fascinated him.
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