"No," said Fuller. "They have to be thought of, but life isn't all a
matter of building dams. Now I'm getting old, I've found that out."
"And you? Have you any opinion on the subject?" Ida asked Dick.
Dick hesitated, wondering whether she meant to put him at his ease or was
amused by his seriousness.
"I don't imagine my views are worth much and they're not very clear. In a
way, of course, it's plain that Mr. Fuller's right--"
"But after all, building dams and removing rocks may very well come
first?"
Dick pondered this. So far, his profession had certainly come first. He
was not a prig or a recluse, but he found engineering more interesting
than people. Now he came to think of it, he had been proud of Helen's
beauty, but she had not stirred him much or occupied all his thoughts.
Indeed, he had only once been overwhelmingly conscious of a woman's
charm, and that was in Kenwardine's garden. He had lost his senses then,
but did not mean to let anything of the kind happen again.
"Well," he said diffidently, "so long as you're content with your
occupation, it doesn't seem necessary to make experiments and look for
adventures. I expect it saves you trouble to stick to what you like and
know."
He noted Ida's smile, and was silent afterwards while she argued with her
father. He did not want to obtrude himself, and since they seemed to
expect him to stay, it was pleasant enough to sit and listen.
The air was getting cooler and the moon had risen and cast a silver track
across the sea. The distant rumble of the surf came up the hillside in a
faint, rhythmic beat, and the peaks above the camp had grown in
distinctness. A smell of spice drifted out of the jungle, and Dick, who
was tired, was sensible of a delightful languor. The future had suddenly
grown bright and besides this, Ida's gracious friendliness had given him
back his confidence and self-respect. He was no longer an outcast; he had
his chance of making good and regaining the amenities of life that he had
learned to value by their loss. He was very grateful to the girl and
Fuller, but at length took his leave and returned to the locomotive shed
with a light heart and a springy step.
Next morning he began his new work with keen energy. It absorbed him, and
as the dam slowly rose in a symmetrical curve of molded stone, its
austere beauty commanded his attention. Hitherto he had given utility the
leading place, but a change had begun the night he sat beneath the
copper-beech with Clare Kenwardine. The design of the structure was good,
but Dick determined that the work should be better, and sometimes stopped
in the midst of his eager activity to note the fine, sweeping lines and
silvery-gray luster of the concrete blocks. There were soft lights at
dawn and when the sun sank in which the long embankment glimmered as if
carved in mother-of-pearl.