“And you,” said he, “are the ace of the suit. Let’s go!”
“One thing first,” she said, and ran into another room.
She came back almost at once with a chain of amber beads about her throat—a loop of golden fire, trembling and changing with every breath she drew. She slipped the orchid-colored scarf over her shoulders. It was like a mist tinged by the dainty light of dawn. Three times the rich color was repeated; first in the red gold glory of her hair, then in the flash of fire that looped her throat, and last it splashed across the bronze slippers. But with the orchid-colored scarf the charm was complete; the spell was cast.
“How are we to go?” she asked as they stood beside his horse.
He looked on her with some doubt. The dim light caught at the amber beads.
“Perhaps we’ll have to ride double,” he ventured.
Her laughter reassured him. She caught the pommel of the saddle as if to vault up, man-fashion. Then she remembered, with a murmur of dismay.
“How—” she began.
He caught her beneath the arms and lifted her lightly to the saddle, then sprang up behind. The horse started at a slow trot.
“Carrigan?”