He was very busy. He was altogether
taken up with his affairs. His business was steadily growing. He had been
forced to take on several of his old employees. At present he was shipping
tar.
When he had given his orders in the warehouse, he walked over to the
restaurant where he usually took his meals. It was late. He ate hurriedly
and spoke to no one. He was engrossed in thought about a new enterprise he
had in mind. His tar was going to Spain. The rye held firm, with good
prices; he sold steadily, his business began to stretch forth new arms.
There was that new tannery near Torahus. How would it do if one gave a
little thought to a tar-manufacturing plant alongside? He really was going
to speak to Ole about that. He had had it in mind several weeks. He had
even consulted an engineer about it. There were the cuttings and the tops.
If the tannery took the bark, why shouldn't the tar plant take the wood?
Tidemand walked home. It rained steadily.
A few steps from his office entrance he stopped abruptly; then he sidled
quietly into an area-way. He stared straight ahead. His wife was standing
out there in the rain, outside his office.
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