"Would you expect me to live here altogether?"
Hunter made a gesture of weariness.
"I did expect something of that kind once upon a time; I'm sorry you have made it clear that I was wrong."
Florence favored him with a mocking smile.
"After all, you have stood it rather well. It's only during the last few months you have been getting bitter; but that's beside the question. Why are you so willing to waste on that man the money you can't spare for me?"
"To begin with, I'm by no means certain that I'll have to pay it. There's good stuff in him, and I want to give him an opportunity for becoming a useful citizen. In the next place, the line must be drawn somewhere, and the crop I'm putting in wouldn't stand the cost of a spring in Toronto, if it's to be anything like the winter in Montreal."
Florence saw that he meant it and changed the subject, for there were times when she realized that it was not advisable to drive her husband too far. After a while he strolled away toward the stables in search of Thorne, and a few minutes later they sat down together on the summit of a low rise. Hunter lighted his pipe and, resting one elbow in the grass, lay smoking thoughtfully for a while before he spoke to his companion.
"Mavy," he said, "you are going to do what would be the wisest thing in the case of the average man—but I'm not wholly sure it would be that in yours. After all, there's a good deal to be said for the life you lead."
"It will hurt a little to give it up," Thorne acknowledged. "But isn't there something to be said for—the other kind?"
Hunter pointed with his pipe to where the rise ran into the birches.