Brandon of the Engineers by Harold Bindloss

Dusk was falling when Dick went to keep his appointment with his employer. Fireflies glimmered in the brush beside the path, and the lights of Santa Brigida flashed in a brilliant cluster on the edge of the shadowy sea. High above, rugged peaks cut black against the sky, and the land breeze that swept their lower slopes brought with it instead of coolness a warm, spicy smell. There was more foliage when Dick reached the foot of a projecting spur, for a dark belt of forest rolled down the hill; and by and by he saw a big tent, that gleamed with a softened radiance like a paper lantern, among a clump of palms. It seemed to be well lighted inside, and Dick remembered having heard orders for electric wires to be connected with the power-house at the dam.

Fuller obviously meant to give his daughter all the civilized comfort possible, and Dick was glad he had been able to find a clean duck suit, though he was not sure he had succeeded in removing all the oily grime from his face. Nothing could be done with his hands. The knuckles were scarred, the nails broken, and the black grease from the engine had worked into his skin. Still, this did not matter much, because he had gradually overcome his fastidiousness and it was not likely that Miss Fuller would notice him.