something in the poise of her head that have her an air of distinction.
Festing did not know if distinction was quite what he meant, but could
not think of a better term. She looked at one with steady eyes; her gaze
was frank and fearless, as if she had confidence in herself. Yet it
was not an aggressive confidence, but rather a calm that sprang from
pride--the right kind of pride. In a way, he knew nothing about her, but
he was sure she would disdain anything that was shabby and mean. He was
not a judge of beauty, but thought the arch of her brows and the lines
of nose and mouth were good. She was pretty, but in admitting this one
did not go far enough. The pleasure he got from studying her picture was
his only romantic weakness, and he could indulge it safely because if he
ever saw her it would be when she had married his friend.

The curious thing was that she had promised to marry Charnock. Bob was a
good sort, but he was not on this girl's level, and if she raised him to
it, would probably feel uncomfortable there. He was slack and took the
easiest way, while a hint of coarseness had recently got more marked.
Festing was not fastidious, but he lived with clear-eyed, wiry men who
could do all that one could expect from flesh and blood. They quarreled
about their wages and sometimes struck a domineering boss, but they did
their work, in spite of scorching heat and biting frost. Raging floods,
snowslides, and rocks that rolled down the mountain side and smashed
the track never daunted them. Their character had something of the clean
hardness of finely tempered steel. But Charnock was different.

"So you think of quitting?" Festing said at length.

"I'm forced to quit; I'm in too deep to get straight. It's possible that
the man I owe most money might give me time, but it would only mean that
I'd slave for another year or two and come down after all. I don't