Darrin said, “I intend to.”
Evered nodded quietly. “All right,” he agreed. “I don’t aim to hinder.”
He turned toward the barn; and as he turned Darrin saw that he had his knife slung in its leather sheath upon his hip. The sheath was deep; only the tip of the knife’s haft showed. Yet Darrin’s eyes fastened on this with a strange intentness, as though he were moved by a morbid curiosity at sight of the thing. The heavy knife had taken so many lives.
Darrin did not move till Evered had gone into the barn and out of sight; then the younger man turned toward the house, and knocked, and Ruth opened the door.
He asked, “Can I get milk to-night, and eggs; and have you made butter?”
She had been surprised to see him so soon again; she was a little startled, could not find words at once. But she nodded and he came into the kitchen and she shut the door behind him, for the day was cold.
“We haven’t milked,” she said. “It will be a little while.”
Darrin, whose thoughts had been on other things, found himself suddenly swept by a sense of her loveliness. He had always known that she was beautiful, but he had held back the thought, had fought against it. Now seeing her again after so long a time he forgot everything but her. She saw the slow change in his eyes; and though she had longed for it, it frightened her.
She began to tremble, and tried to speak, but all she could say was, “Oh!”
Darrin came toward her then slowly. He had not meant to speak, yet the words came before he knew. “Ah, Ruth, I have missed you so,” he said.