Every little rush of the breeze seemed an invitation and a caress.
Presently she thanked him for having brought her there, and said something of remembering it in England.
"As one who will never see it again ?" He turned and faced her smiling.
But behind his frank, pleasant look there was something from which she shrank.
"I shall hardly see it, again," she said hesitating.

"Perhaps that makes it the more--the more touching.

One clings to it the more--the impression--because it is so fugitive--will be so soon gone." He was silent a moment, then said abruptly: "And the upshot of all this is, that you could not imagine living in Canada ?" She started.
"I never said so.

Of course I could imagine living in Canada!" "But you think, for women, the life up here--in the Northwest--is too hard." She looked at him timidly.
"That's because I look at it from my English point of view.

I am afraid English life makes weaklings of us." "No--not of you!" he said, almost scornfully.