He don't look as he does for nothing." "Ah, that's so.

One day, we shall see what we shall see," murmured Christine, and waved a hand to a friend in the street.
This conversation happened on the evening of the day that Fleda Druse shot the Carillon Rapids alone.

An hour after the two gossips had had their say Gabriel Druse paced up and down the veranda of his house, stopping now and then to view the tumbling, hurrying Sagalac, or to dwell upon the sunset which crimsoned and bronzed the western sky.

His walk had an air of impatience; he seemed disturbed of mind and restless of body.
He gave an impression of great force.

He would have been picked out of a multitude, not alone because of his remarkable height, but because he had an air of command and the aloofness which shows a man sufficient unto himself.
As he stood gazing reflectively into the sunset, a strange, plaintive, birdlike note pierced the still evening air.