n,
accentuating the bitter sense of class distinction and the unreason of
it, which he was only too prone to entertain. He did not want any
"kindness" from rich people. He worked for them because he must, but he
worked in a spirit of armed neutrality at the best, like so many of his
kind, and he spat mentally upon Carnegie libraries and all other
evidences of the philanthropic spirit in those relieved from the toil of
day labor.

Adelle could not follow this, but she knew that the man was close to an
explosion point of some sort, as he had been that other time when she
had encountered him before his shack. Then he had suddenly jumped up
from the doorstep, the lust for action in his movement, and had
disappeared for the better part of a week. She felt that he might be on
the verge of another such outbreak and tried clumsily to prevent it if
possible. She hesitated, thinking what to say, while the mason glared at
her as if he were controlling himself with an effort.

"I thought you might like something," she said at last. "There's plenty,
and you are welcome to what you want."

"I don't want nothin'"; and he added meaningly,--"least of all flowers
and fruits."

"There are a lot of magazines at the house--you might call for them or
books."

"I don't do much reading."

He checked her every move. There was nothing more to say, and so Adelle
turned slowly and went on her way to her home, thinking rather sadly
that the young mason would surely go to "'Frisco" to-night and might
never come back. Meanwhile, the mason had entered his shack and closed
the door, as if he wished to keep out intruders. He was not
whistling....

That evening Archie arrived by motor from the city, bringing with him
some friends, and others came up to dinner from Bellevue, so that they
had a party of eight or ten. Dinner was late, and as the night was
pleasant with starlight and a soft breeze, coffee was served on the
unfinished terrace. As Adelle was pointing out to one of the guests the
line of proposed wall, she saw a man's figure coming down the path from
the eucalyptus grove. She watched it draw near to the terrace, then
stop. She was sure that it was the mason's figure. He must be on his way
to town to take the evening train for the city, which passed Bellevue at
nine forty-five. She utterly forgot what she was saying, what was being
said to her, in her intense effort to discover in the darkness what the
figure just above the terrace was