As the road was in wretched repair, Jeb's whole attention was upon his driving.

At the gate between barnyard and pasture he said, "You hold the lines while I get down." Susan's fingers closed mechanically upon the strips of leather.
Jeb led the mare through the gate, closed it, resumed his seat.
This time the mare went on without exacting the clucking sound.
They were following the rocky road along the wester hillside of the pasture hollow.

As they slowly made their way among the deep ruts and bowlders, from frequent moistenings of the lips and throats, noises, and twitchings of body and hands, it was evident that the young farmer was getting ready for conversation.

The struggle at last broke surface with, "Zeke Warham don't waste no time road patchin'-- does he ?" Susan did not answer.
Jeb studied her out of the corner of his eye, the first time a fairly good bit of roadway permitted.

He could make nothing of her face except that it was about the prettiest he had ever seen.