“No, don’t you worry about her recognizing you,” he said to the reflection in the mirror.  “Even if she did she’d be ashamed to own it!”

Wade, however, was over-critical.  Whatever might be said of the features individually, collectively they were distinctly pleasing.  The impression one received was of a clean, straight-limbed, clear-eyed fellow, who, if he had worked with his hands, had won with his brain.  He looked a little older than his twenty-eight years warranted, and a little taller than his scant five-feet-eleven proved.  Above all, he appeared healthful, alert, capable, and kindly.  He made friends at sight with men, children, and dogs and wore his friendships as easily as he wore his clothes.  The West puts an indefinable stamp on a man, and Wade had it.  When presently he donned a cloth cap, torn from the confused depths of his valise, and passed out of doors he walked like a man who was used to covering long distances afoot, and with a certain swing of his broad shoulders that suggested a jovial egotism.  And as he made his way through the orchard and into the meadow beyond his mind was still busy with Evelyn Walton.

Of course he would meet her sooner or later; he was bound to unless he pulled up stakes and hiked out at once.  And he didn’t want to do that.  He was enjoying a totally new sensation, that of householder.  And he liked Eden Village with its big elms and shaded roads, its wide meadows and encircling green hills.  It was all new and delightful after the bare, primeval grandeur of the mountains.  Besides, and Wade laughed softly to himself, when all was said and done, he really wanted to meet her.  The prospect brought a flutter to his heart and a pleasant excitement to his mind.  He would probably fall in love with her again, but there was no harm in that since he would be off before the disease could strike in very deep.

He had reached the stone wall dividing his property from the land beyond.  At a little distance a brook bubbled along its sunken course.  Bushes, ferns, and here and there a small tree lined its banks, and Wade could follow its journeying with his eyes for some distance.  He vaulted the wall and crossed to the brook, examining it with the curiosity of a fisherman.  It was rather disappointing.  He didn’t believe any self-respecting fish would deign to inhabit such meagre quarters.  But it was a fascinating little stream for all of that, and it sang and purled and had such a jolly good time all to itself that unconsciously Wade fell into step with it, so to speak, and kept it company through the meadow.  Swallows darted above him and sparrows took flight before him in mild alarm.  Once he disturbed a catbird on her nest and she flew circling about his head, scolding harshly.