and she understood him as she did now, she could
make a success of their marriage. But, as it was, Martin was so fixed
in the groove of his attitude of utter indifference toward her that she
felt there was little chance of ever jogging him out of it. To Rose,
the very fact that the possibility of happiness seemed so nearly within
reach was what put the cruel edge to their present status.

She did not comprehend that Martin definitely did not want it changed.
Conscious, at last, that he was slowly starving for a woman's love,
beginning to brood because there was no beauty in his life, he was
looking at her with eyes as newly appraising as her own. He remembered
her as she had been that day in the bank, when he had thought her like
a rose. She had been all white and gold then; now, hair, eyes, skin, and
clothes seemed to him to be of one earthy color. Her clean, dull calico
dress belted in by her checked apron revealed the ungraceful lines of
her figure. She looked middle-aged and unshapely, when he wanted youth
and an exquisite loveliness. Well, he told himself, harshly, he was not
likely to get it. There was no sense in harboring such notions. They
must be crushed. He would work harder, much harder, hard enough to
forget them. There was but one thing worth while--his farm. He would
develop it to its limits.

Accordingly, when little Rose returned to Sharon, he and his Rag-weed
soon settled themselves to the old formula of endless toil, investing
the profits in sound farm mortgages that were beginning to tax the
capacity of his huge tin box in the vault of the First State Bank.

V. DUST BEGETS DUST

YET, through the Wades' busy days the echo of little Rose's visit
lingered persistently. Each now anxiously wanted another child, but both
were careful to keep this longing locked in their separate bosoms. Their
constraint with each other was of far too long a standing to permit
of any sudden exchange of confidences. It was with this hope
half-acknowledged, however, and in her mind the recent memories of a
more approachable Martin, that Rose began to make a greater effort with
her appearance. By dint of the most skillful maneuvering, she contrived
to purchase herself a silk dress--the first since her marriage. It
was of dark blue crepe-de-chine, simply but becomingly made, the very
richness of its folds shedding a new luster over her quiet graciousness
and large proportions. Even her kind, capable hands seemed subtly