He might have been failing to do it well, but he most certainly was doing it conscientiously.

Once he had said to her that a man should never be judged by the result of his labors, but by the nature of his effort.

A man might strive with all his heart and strength, yet fail.

Carley watched him striding along and bending down, absorbed in his task, unmindful of the glaring hot sun, and somehow to her singularly detached from the life wherein he had once moved and to which she yearned to take him back.

Suddenly an unaccountable flashing query assailed her conscience: How dare she want to take him back?
She seemed as shocked as if some stranger had accosted her.