Who was he to judge her? She had loved him and then
ceased to love him. Beyond that, her life was her own to do with as
she chose.
Nor could Hollister, when he faced the situation squarely, feel that
he was less a man, less upright, less able to bear himself decently
before his fellows than he had ever been. Sometimes he would grow
impatient with thinking and put it all by. He had his moods. But also
he had his work, the imperative necessity of constant labor to
satisfy the needs both of the present and the future. No man goes into
the wilderness with only his hands and a few tools and wins security
by any short and easy road. There were a great many things Hollister
was determined to have for himself and Doris and their children,--for
he did not close his eyes to the natural fulfilment of the mating
impulse. He did not spare himself. Like Mills, he worked with a
prodigious energy. Sometimes he wondered if dreams akin to his own
drove Charlie Mills to sweat and strain, to pile up each day double
the amount of split cedar, and double for himself the wages earned by
the other two men,--who were themselves no laggards with axe and saw.
Pages:
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225