Beside him, now that money had come to him, more and more
workmen, men who had invented nothing, who were without distinction in the
life of the community, who had married no rich man's daughter.
In the morning the other workmen, skillful fellows, who knew as Hugh had
never known, the science of their iron craft, came straggling through the
shop door into his presence. They were a little embarrassed before him. The
greatness of his name rang in their minds.
Many of the workmen were husbands, fathers of families. In the morning they
left their houses gladly but nevertheless came somewhat reluctantly to
the shop. As they came along the street, past other houses, they smoked
a morning pipe. Groups were formed. Many legs straggled along the street.
At the door of the shop each man stopped. There was a sharp tapping sound.
Pipe bowls were knocked out against the door sill. Before he came into the
shop, each man looked out across the open country that stretched away to
the north.
For a week Hugh had been married to a woman who had not yet become his
wife. She belonged, still belonged, to a world he had thought of as outside
the possibilities of his life. Was she not young, strong, straight of body?
Did she not array herself in what seemed unbelievably beautiful clothes?
The clothes she wore were a symbol of herself. For him she was
unattainable.
And yet she had consented to become his wife, had stood with him before a
man who had said words about honor and obedience.
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