Dusk was falling, and Bob, turning in his chair, stretched his tired body and began to cut some tobacco. The chair cracked noisily and Bob dropped his tobacco plug. He could not reach the plug, to get up was a bother, and he knew Helen did not approve his cutting tobacco into his hand. Sometimes he thought Helen’s fastidiousness exaggerated, and he did not want to go for his pouch.
The soft dusk invaded the veranda, but Helen wore a white dress and her figure was distinct. She faced Bob and he knew she had noticed his cutting the tobacco, but he rather hoped she would not talk. Since the early morning he had been occupied and when he had smoked his pipe he must go back to the dam.
The evening was calm and the throb of the river was ominously loud. After two or three weeks of scorching su
