He sat down opposite to her, and took up the paper. "You'll make a beastly mess of your hands," he said uneasily.
"Be quiet!" she said.
He opened out the paper, and there fell a silence.
Maud pursued her self-appointed task with mixed feelings. The tobacco was rank and coarse, and it smelt like mildewed hay. It was, moreover, nearly black, and she found herself fingering it with increasing disgust. She was determined however not to be beaten, and with compressed lips she pinched and poked the revolting substance, ramming it deep into the blackened bowl with a heroic determination to accomplish the business to the best of her ability, her feelings notwithstanding.
"You're packing it too tight," observed Jake gravely.
She looked up half-laughing, half-vexed. "I told you not to watch."
He dropped his paper, and leaned towards her. "I reckon I can't help watching you, my girl," he said. "I've never seen anyone like you before."
He spoke with absolute simplicity, but his directness struck her like a blow in the face. She lowered her eyes swiftly.
"I'm sorry I haven't done it to your satisfaction," she said, in a small, cold voice, from which all hint of intimacy had fled. "You had better do it over again."
She held out the pipe to him, and again the firelight gleamed golden-red on that new bright ring that he had placed on her finger that day.