flutter of her heart; the tremor of her hands, fighting back the blackness that seeped up to clutch her consciousness.
"The last of your logs will be at the mill tonight," she said. "Here is last week's statement. We will be finished with your cut within a week."
This was dismissal and he rocked under the blow of her decisiveness.
"Yes—finished—And I will be going—now."
He turned and brushed past Goddard, leaving the house, going to his bunk, packing his suitcase with cold hands, a fog before his eyes, rage within his heart. She had no trust for him, she would not listen!
And remorse came to him because he had shrunk from facing this situation before, when there was time to explain, when he might have been believed.
Until Taylor had disappeared within the men's shanty Milt Goddard stood watching him. Then he turned. Helen sat at her desk, hands gripping the chair arms for a frantic hold on reality. He moved toward her and put his big palms on the desk.
"I warned you, "he said thickly. "I was right, wasn't I? And now I guess you know which man it is that—"
"Don't you say that word!" she cried hoarsely, springing up. "Don't you say it to me, Milt Goddard—Ever!—Nor any man! Any man!—"
She drew the back of one hand across her mouth as though she would wipe from it the memory of Taylor's kisses. She started to speak, but breath caught in her throat.
"Ever!" she cried again, chokingly and turned and fled.
