The man stepped out, and coming around to the other side of the car put
out his arms and lifted the boy. He did not set him down, but carried
him, seeming to hold him with peculiar care, and brought him through the
surrounding trees and shrubbery to the pool itself, coming, as he did
so, into full view of the unseen eyes above.
Roberta experienced a sudden strange leap of the heart as she saw that
the supple figure of the man was Richard Kendrick's own, and that the
slight frame he bore was that of a crippled child. She could see now the
iron braces on the legs, like pipe stems, which stuck straight out from
the embrace of the strong young arm which held them. She could discern
clearly the pallor and emaciation of the small face, in pitiful contrast
to the ruggedly healthy one of the child's bearer. Fascinatedly she
watched as Richard set his burden carefully down upon the grass, close
to the edge of the pool, the boy's back against a big white birch trunk.
The two were not so far below her but that she could see the expression
on their faces, though she could not hear their words.
Richard ran back to the car, returning with a rug and something in a
long and slender case.
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