But Auntie Sue had not mentioned in her letter the money she had lost; nor did she now know that Brian had himself told Betty Jo at the time of their first meeting.
On the day that Betty Jo typed the last page, and the book was ready for the printers, the young woman went earlier than usual to the clearing where Brian was at work.

The sound of his ax reached her while she was yet some distance away, and guided her to the spot where he was chopping a big white oak.
Brian, with his eyes fixed on the widening cut at the base of the tree, did not notice the girl, who stood watching him.

She was smiling to herself at his ignorance of her presence and in anticipation of the moment when he should discover her, and there was in her eyes a look of wholesome womanly admiration for the man who swung his ax with such easy strength.

In truth, Brian Kent at his woodman's labor made a picture not at all unattractive.
Swiftly, the cut in the tree-trunk widened as the ax bit deeply at every skilful stroke, and the chips flew about the chopper's feet.

The acrid odor of the freshly cut oak mingled with the woodland perfume.