'The whole world, you see, will know,' he added under his breath to
the delighted child. He looked into her queer, flushed face. The blue
eyes for a moment had, he thought, an amber tinge. It was a mere
effect of light, of course; the sun had passed behind a cloud.
Something that he ought to have known, ought to have remembered,
flashed mockingly before him and was gone. 'One among them trembles,'
he repeated in his mind. He himself was trembling.
'The Morning Spiders,' said some one quietly and softly, 'are standing
at their stable doors, making faces at the hidden sun.'
But he never knew who said it, or if it was not his own voice speaking
below his breath. He glanced at Jimbo. The small grave face wore an
air of man-like preoccupation, as was always the case when he felt a
little out of his depth in general conversation. He assumed it in
self-protection. He never exposed himself by asking questions. The
music of that under-voice ran on:--
'Sweet thoughts, like fine weather,
Bind closely together
God's stars with the heart of a boy.'
But he said it aloud apparently this time, for the others looked up
with surprise. Monkey inquired what in the world he was talking about,
only, not quite knowing himself, he could not answer her. Jimbo then,
silent and preoccupied, found his thoughts still running on marriage.
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