It was a
hot day and beads of sweat stood on Hugh's face. His sleeves were rolled to
his elbows and his hands and hairy arms were covered with shop grime. He
put up his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long, black
mark. Then he became aware of the fact that as she talked the woman looked
at him in an absorbed, almost calculating way. It was as though he were a
horse and she were a buyer examining him to be sure he was sound and of
a kindly disposition. While she stood beside him her eyes were shining
and her cheeks were flushed. The awakening, assertive male thing in him
whispered that the flush on her cheeks and the shining eyes were indicative
of something. His mind had been taught that lesson by the slight and wholly
unsatisfactory experience with the school teacher at his boarding-house.
Clara drove away from the shop with her father and Alfred Buckley. Tom
drove and Alfred Buckley leaned forward and talked. "You must find out
whether or not Steve has an option on the new tool. It would be foolish to
ask outright and give ourselves away. That inventor is stupid and vain.
Those fellows always are. They appear to be quiet and shrewd, but they
always let the cat out of the bag. The thing to do is to flatter him in
some way. A woman could find out all he knows in ten minutes." He turned to
Clara and smiled. There was something infinitely impertinent in the fixed,
animal-like stare of his eyes.
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