In the evening Bob put up his calculations and went to the veranda. The sun was low, the pines were getting dark, and Helen’s white dress cut the dusky background. For a few moments she did not see Bob; she stood by a post and looked across the valley. Her face was outlined against the shadow, and Bob noted her tight mouth. He saw she pondered and he knitted his brows, for he imagined she did not want his help. He felt Helen, so to speak, eluded him. He was her husband, but she was not altogether his.
When he fetched a chair for her she turned and gave him a keen glance. Bob now wore a silk shirt and light summer clothes. His movements were easy and marked by the chopper’s balance. Although he was hard and muscular, he did not look like the man who had not long since labored at the dam.
