But he could never love the woman she seemed on the way to become, breathing an exciting and unhealthy atmosphere, seeking purely personal gain, indifferent to worthy objects, selfish, hard, mercenary, worldly.

No, that kind of Ruth would kill love.
He still stood there when Morgan, who had been on an errand to headquarters, came galloping back on his way to the dam.
"Accident down below," he said.

"Man hurt in the mixer.

Arm crushed." Bryant jerked his head about to look at the drop two hundred yards farther down the ridge.

He saw the workmen grouped together.