It did not seem possible that this was the same girl whom he saw every day in and around the ranch house and dairy, the girl of simple calico frocks and plain shirt waists, who brought him his dinner, who made up his bed.

Now he could not take his eyes from her.

Hilma, for the first time, was wearing her hair done high upon her head.

The thick, sweet-smelling masses, bitumen brown in the shadows, corruscated like golden filaments in the light.

Her organdie frock was long, longer than any she had yet worn.