Whether he saw it or not, one could hardly have told,
for his face wore a reminiscent look. Figures moved backward and forward
over there, came out and went in, without his look changing.
Even Vashti, faintly distinguishable in her gay dress,
came out and passed down the hill alone, without his expression changing.
It was, perhaps, fifteen minutes later that he seemed to awake,
and after a look over his shoulder stepped from the door into the yard.
His mother was cooking, and he strolled down the path across
the little clearing and entered the pines. Insensibly his pace quickened --
he strode along the dusky path with as firm a step as if it were
broad daylight. A quarter of a mile below the path crossed the little stream
and joined the path from Cove Mills's place, which he used to take
when he went to school. He crossed at the old log and turned down the path
through the little clearing there. The next moment he stood face to face
with Vashti Mills. Whether he was surprised or not no one could have told,
for he said not a word, and his face was in the shadow,
though Vashti's was toward the clearing and the light from the sky was on it.
Her hat was in her hand. He stood still, but did not stand aside
to let her pass, until she made an imperious little gesture
and stepped as if she would have passed around him.
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