crepe-de-chine, simply but becomingly made, the very richness of
its folds shedding a new luster over her quiet graciousness and
large proportions. Even her kind, capable hands seemed subtly
ennobled as they emerged from the luscious, well fitting sleeves,
and the high collar, with its narrow edge of lace, stressed the
nobility of her fine head. When she came home from church, she
did not, as she would have heretofore, change at once into
calico, but protected by a spick and span white apron, kept on
the best frock through dinner and, frequently, until chore time
in the afternoon. In the winter, too, she was exposed less to sun
and wind and her skin lost much of its weathered look. She took
better care of it and was more careful with the arrangement of
her hair. Gradually a new series of impressions began to register
on Martin's brain.

One Sunday she came in fresh and ruddy from the drive home in the
cold, crisp air. Martin found it rather pleasant to watch her
brisk movements as she prepared the delayed meal. He observed,
with something of a mental start, that today, at least, she still
had more than a little of the old sumptuous, full-blown quality.
It reminded him, together with the deft way in which she hurried,
without haste, without flurry, of their first evening in the
shack, nearly seven years ago. How tense they both had been, how
afraid of each other, how she had irritated him! Well, he had
grown accustomed to her at last, thanks be. Was he, perhaps,
foolish not to get more out of their life--it was not improbable
that a child might come. Why had he been taking it so for granted
that this was out of the question? When one got right down to it,
just what was the imaginary obstacle that was blocking the
realization of this deep wish? Her chance of not pulling through?