sheer desperation. For she did not
harden to the work; it steadily sapped both her strength and patience.
But he chose an ill time for his declaration. Stella had overtaken her
work and snared a fleeting hour of idleness in mid-afternoon of a hot
day in early August. Under a branchy alder at the cook-house-end she
piled all the pillows she could commandeer in their quarters and curled
herself upon them at grateful ease. Like a tired animal, she gave
herself up to the pleasure of physical relaxation, staring at a perfect
turquoise sky through the whispering leaves above. She was not even
thinking. She was too tired to think, and for the time being too much at
peace to permit thought that would, in the very nature of things, be
disturbing.

Abbey maintained for his own pleasure a fast motorboat. He slid now into
the bay unheard, tied up beside the float, walked to the kitchen,
glanced in, then around the corner, and smilingly took a seat on the
grass near her.

"It's too perfect a day to loaf in the shade," he observed, after a
brief exchange of commonplaces. "Won't you come out for a little spin on
the lake? A ride in the _Wolf_ will put some color in your cheeks."

"If I had time," she said, "I would. But loggers must eat though the
heavens fall. In about twenty minutes I'll have to start supper. I'll
have color enough, goodness knows once I get over that stove."

Abbey picked nervously at a blade of grass for a minute.

"This is a regular dog's life for you," he broke out suddenly.

"Oh, hardly that," she protested. "It's a little hard on me because I
haven't been used to it, that's all."

"It's Chinaman's work," he said hotly. "Charlie oughtn't to let you stew
in that kitchen."

Stella said nothing; she was not moved to the defence of her brother.
She was loyal enough to her blood, but not so intensely loyal that she
could defend him against criticism that struck a responsive chord in her
own mind. She was beginning to see that, being useful, Charlie was
making use of her. His horizon had narrowed to logs that might be
transmuted into money. Enslaved himself by his engrossing purposes, he
thought nothing of enslaving others to serve his end. She had come to a
definite conclusion about that, and she meant to collect her wages when
he sold his logs, collect also the ninety dollars of her money he had
coolly appropriated, and try a different outlet. If one must work, one
might at least seek work a little to one