She shrugged a shoulder at him.
"Suit yourself," she said.
In this position, Peter made the discovery that her profile was quite as interesting as her full face, but she no longer smiled. Her reference to the Deity entirely eliminated Peter and the profession of forestry from the pale of useful things. He was sorry that she no longer smiled because he had decided to make friends at Black Rock and he didn't want to make a bad beginning.
"I hope you don't mind," said Peter at last, "if I tell you that you have one of the loveliest voices that I have ever heard."
He marked with pleasure the sudden flush of color that ran up under her delicately freckled tan. Her lips parted and she turned to him hesitating.
"You—you heard me!"
"I did. It was like the voice of an angel in Heaven."
"Angel! Oh! I'm sorry. I—I didn't know any one was there. I just sing on my way home from work."
"You've been working to-day?"
She nodded. "Yes—Farmerettin'."