He had abundant faith in Doris--of the soft voice and
the keen, quick mind, the indomitable spirit and infinite
patience--but he had not much faith in himself, in his own power. He
was afraid of her restored sight, which would leave nothing to the
subtle play of her imagination.
And following Myra with that mechanical noting of her progress, his
eyes, which were very keen, caught some movement in a fringe of
willows that lined the opposite shore of the river some three hundred
yards below. He looked more sharply. He had developed a hunter's
faculty for interpreting movement in the forest, and although he had
nothing more positive than instinct and a brief flash upon which to
base conclusions, he did not think that movement of the leaves was
occasioned by any creature native to the woods.
On impulse he rose, went inside, and taking his binoculars from their
case, focused the eight-power lenses on the screen of brush, keeping
himself well within the doorway where he could see without being seen.
It took a minute or so of covering the willows before he located the
cause of that movement of shrubbery.
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