r husband's opinions above those of all
other men. In politics, in science, in religion, in dentistry she looked
up to his dicta as to revelation. And was he not a magistrate? But let
him take oars in hand, or shake lines or a whip above the back of any
horse, and this woman would trust any other woman's husband by
preference. It was a phenomenon.

Lulu was making the work last, so that she should be out of everybody's
way. When the boat put off without Ninian, she felt a kind of terror and
wished that he had gone. He had sat down near her, and she pretended not
to see. At last Lulu understood that Ninian was deliberately choosing to
remain with her. The languor of his bulk after the evening meal made no
explanation for Lulu. She asked for no explanation. He had stayed.

And they were alone. For Di, on a pretext of examining the flocks and
herds, was leading Bobby away to the pastures, a little at a time.

The sun, now fallen, had left an even, waxen sky. Leaves and ferns
appeared drenched with the light just withdrawn. The hush, the warmth,
the colour, were charged with some influence. The air of the time
communicated itself to Lulu as intense and quiet happiness. She had not
yet felt quiet with Ninian. For the first time her blind excitement in
his presence ceased, and she felt curiously accustomed to him. To him
the air of the time imparted itself in a deepening of his facile
sympathy.

"Do you know something?" he began. "I think you have it pretty hard
around here."

"I?" Lulu was genuinely astonished.

"Yes, sir. Do you have to work like this all the time? I guess you
won't mind my asking."

"Well, I ought to work. I have a home with them. Mother too."

"Yes, but glory. You ought to have some kind of a life of your own. You
want it, too. You told me you did--that first day."

She was silent. Again he was investing her with a longing which she had
never really had, until he had planted that longing. She had wanted she
knew not what. Now she accepted the dim, the romantic interest of this
role.

"I guess you don't see how it seems," he said, "to me, coming along--a
stranger so. I don't like it."

He frowned, regarded the river, flicked away ashes, his diamond
obediently shining. Lulu's look, her head drooping, had the liquid air
of the look of a young girl. For the first time in her life she was
feeling her helplessness. It intoxicated her.

"They're very good to me," she said.

He turned. "Do you kn