“Wonderful,” replied Nora; “he is wonderful.”
Jack glanced at the girl beside him. It seemed to him that it needed no mind-reader to interpret the look of pride, yes and of love, in the wonderful blue-grey eyes. Sick as from a heavy blow he turned away from her; the flicker of hope that his brother-in-law's words had kindled in his heart died out and left him cold. He was too late; why try to deceive himself any longer? The only thing to do was to pull out and leave this place where every day brought him intolerable pain. But today he would get all he could, to-day he would love her and win such poor scraps as he could from her eyes, her smiles, her words.
“Glorious view that,” he said, touching her arm and sweeping his hand toward the mountains.
She started at his touch, a faint colour coming into her face. “How wonderful!” she breathed. “I love them. They bring me my best thoughts.”
Before he could reply there came from behind the grub shack a torrent of abusive speech florid with profane language and other adornment and in a voice thick with rage.
“That's him,” said Nora. “Some one is getting it.” The satisfaction in her voice and look were in sharp contrast to the look of dismay and shame that covered the burning face of her sister. From English the voice passed into German, apparently no less vigorous or threatening. “That's better,” said Nora with a wicked glance at Romayne. “You see he is talking to some one of his own people. They understand that. There are a lot of Germans from the Settlement, Freiberg, you know.”
As she spoke Switzer emerged from behind the shack, driving before him a cringing creature evidently in abject terror of him. “Get back to your gang and carry out your orders, or you will get your time.” He caught sight of the car and stopped abruptly, and, waving his hand imperiously to the workman, strode up to the party, followed by a mild-looking man in spectacles.
“Came to see how you are getting on, Switzer, eh, what?” said Tom.
“Getting on,” he replied in a loud voice, raising his hat in salutation. “How can one get on with a lot of stupid fools who cannot carry out instructions and dare to substitute their own ideas for commands. They need discipline. If I had my way they would get it, too. But in this country there is no such thing as discipline.” He made no attempt to apologise for his outrageous outburst, was probably conscious of no need of apology.
“This is your foreman, I think?” said Nora, who alone of the party seemed to be able to deal with the situation.