"That was not exactly the reason, but we cannot talk too long here.

Dane is anxious to take us home in his new buggy, but it would apparently be a very tight fit for three.

Will you drive me over ?" Winston only nodded, for Mrs.Macdonald approached in pursuit of him, but he spent the rest of the evening in a state of expectancy, and Maud Barrington fancied that his hard hands were suspiciously unresponsive as she took them when he helped her into the Silverdale wagon--a vehicle a strong man could have lifted, and in no way resembling its English prototype.

The team was mettlesome, the lights of Macdonald's homestead soon faded behind them, and they were racing with many a lurch and jolt straight as the crow flies across the prairie.
There was no moon, but the stars shone far up in the soft indigo, and the grasses whirled back in endless ripples to the humming wheels, dimmed to the dusky blue that suffused the whole intermerging sweep of earth and sky.

The sweetness of wild peppermint rose through the coolness of the dew, and the voices of the wilderness were part of the silence that was but the perfect balance of the nocturnal harmonies.
The two who knew and loved the prairie could pick out each one of them.
Nor did it seem that there was any need of speech on such a night, but at last Winston turned with a little smile to his companion, as he checked the horses on the slope of a billowy rise.
"One feels diffident about intruding on this great quietness," he said.
"Still, I fancy you had a purpose in asking me to drive you home." "Yes," said the girl, with a curious gentleness.