long clay pipe. He wore a smock frock and straw hat, and under the
brim of the straw hat, which was well pulled down over his
forehead, his filmy eyes gleamed with an alert watchfulness. He
seemed to be counting every morsel of hay that was being added to
the load and pricing it in his mind, but there was no actual
expression of either pleasure or interest on his features. As the
girl entered the field, and her gown made a gleam of white on the
grass, he turned his head and looked at her, puffing hard at his
pipe and watching her approach only a little less narrowly than he
watched the piling up of the hay. When she drew sufficiently near
him he spoke.

"Coming to ride home on last load?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know. I'm not sure," she answered.

"It'll please Robin if you do," he said.

A little smile trembled on her lips. She bent her head over the
dove she held against her bosom.

"Why should I please Robin?" she asked.

His dull eyes sparkled with a gleam of anger.

"Please Robin, please ME," he said, sharply--"Please yourself,
please nobody."