"Over in the shack Dave called 'the hospital.' Dave was here when we came and Imo asked him to take her to the place; she had heard something of an injured man from Louise Graham. Did Louise really help during an operation?" Lee nodded. "Well, she's odd in many ways. Must be--what shall I say?--a little thick-skinned not to mind blood and all the rest of it. And she doesn't go about much; not at all with the real crowd at Kennard, only with a slow one when she does go. With her father well off, I'd think she would want to be doing something worth while. Charlie's still mad for her, but Gretzie thought after he met her at our cabins that she was too self-conceited. When he asked her if the men of New York, compared with Western men, didn't impress her with superiority and smartness of dress, she said, 'Not those of my acquaintance; they don't try to impress one; it isn't done in their circle, you know. That's one of the differences in manners, I suppose, that distinguishes Fifth Avenue from Broadway.' Gretzie was furious. He had been speaking of Broadway shows and restaurants and things at the time. He declared later that a little attention had turned her head, and that what she had said was all rot. I don't care for her, either. But let us talk of ourselves, Lee." "Yes, that's more interesting," he remarked, with an accent of irony that escaped her. He was curious to learn what this talk was leading to. His curiosity outweighed the irritation he felt at her calm ignoring of the past weeks, at her complacent assumption of his love, at the kiss and the caress she had bestowed, indeed, at her very presence in the room. "Tell me everything about your work and about yourself," she said, folding her hands and gazing up at him. "I'm so impatient to hear." "Nothing worth relating has occurred," he replied. "You've been well?" "Oh, quite. This is a regular health resort." "And you're not working too hard?" "For a whole week I scarcely stirred from the stove," said he. "I'm so glad. You had earned a rest. You don't seem worried about anything, either." "Worried?" His intonation was that of surprise. Then he added, as if by after-thought, "Oh, no." "How relieved I am! I feared you might be worrying your head off about difficulties--cold weather, the time limit set, perhaps money matters. I gained the impression somewhere that you might run short before you finished; I can't just say where I got it. From Imo, perhaps. Nothing definite, you know. But it's so nice to know that you're no longer anxious. That means you're sure you'll build the ditch. How much more is there to do?" "You can see the north camp out of that window." Ruth rose and went to the window indicated, where she stood surveying the men and teams at work beyond the camp and the stretch of sagebrush extending to the white specks of tents in the distance. "That's all that's left to do, Lee?" "That's all. Three miles." "Charlie Menocal hasn't said anything about it lately."