Ah, then, would he let her wait here, as
she was very anxious to know at once, and it was much cooler than in the
shed? Certainly; he would go over and bring her a bench. But here she
begged he wouldn't trouble himself, she could sit anywhere comfortably.
The lower end of the work-bench was covered with clean and odorous
shavings; she lightly brushed them aside and, with a youthful movement,
swung herself to a seat upon it, supporting herself on one hand as
she leaned towards him. She could thus see that his eyes were of a
light-yellowish brown, like clarified honey, with a singular look of
clear concentration in them, which, however, was the same whether turned
upon his work, the surrounding grain, or upon her. This, and his sublime
unconsciousness of the smudge across his face and his blackened hands,
made her wonder if the man who could do everything with wood and iron
was above doing anything with water. She had half a mind to tell him of
it, particularly as she noticed also that his throat below the line
of sunburn disclosed by his open collar was quite white, and his grimy
hands well made.
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