Quietly Hale walked the paths, taking a last farewell of plant and
flower, and only the sudden patter of raindrops made him lift his
eyes to the angry sky. The storm was coming now in earnest and he
had hardly time to lead his horse to the barn and dash to the
porch when the very heavens, with a crash of thunder, broke loose.
Sheet after sheet swept down the mountains like wind-driven clouds
of mist thickening into water as they came. The shingles rattled
as though with the heavy slapping of hands, the pines creaked and
the sudden dusk outside made the cabin, when he pushed the door
open, as dark as night. Kindling a fire, he lit his pipe and
waited. The room was damp and musty, but the presence of June
almost smothered him. Once he turned his face. June's door was
ajar and the key was in the lock. He rose to go to it and look
within and then dropped heavily back into his chair. He was
anxious to get away now--to get to work. Several times he rose
restlessly and looked out the window. Once he went outside and
crept along the wall of the cabin to the east and the west, but
there was no break of light in the murky sky and he went back to
pipe and fire.
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