noon
He wanted to run across the clearing , lift her in his arms and charm away the tiredness ; swiftly on top of that emotion came the realization that she was walking wearily partly because she had been doing his work , partly because her spirit was heavy and sick . He felt sick with himself for having hurt her ; he resented the misery his conscience was causing him : swiftly he found himself resenting the ungainliness of her figure which , in his morbid mood , seemed his fault too . He hated the unconscious reproach she gave him as she came along , stumbling a little , carrying the pickaxe . He had finished his last spot of whisky at noon and had not slept since ; he was worn and tired and frayed , even more than she was . He was acutely uncomfortable for want of soap and water and food . He dashed across the space between them , his eyes blazing madly , and she looked up , hearing his steps , seeing the blaze of his eyes , the tenseness of his clenched hands . `` Damn you -- damn you ! ''