"That's true," said Blake, who had kept away for fear of his resolution melting if he saw much of her. "Still, my uncle seems to think he has a prior claim, and I mayn't be able to stay with him long."
"Then you are going back to Canada?" The quick way the girl looked up, and something in her tone, suggested unpleasant surprise, for she had been taken off her guard.
"I shall have to go when Harding needs me. I haven't heard from him since I arrived, but I'll get my summons sooner or later."
"I thought you had come home for good."
There was rueful humour but no bitterness in Blake's smile. "Oh! no; though I'm very fond of it, Sandymere is not my home. It will be Bertram's by and by and he is married. I'm the poor relation and no great credit to the family."
Millicent's colour deepened, but she looked at him steadily. "I think that is wrong. Since you have been so frank, I may perhaps say that I know there has been a serious mistake somewhere."
"I'm flattered," Blake rejoined, and something in his voice was out of keeping with his half whimsical bow. "It's nice to know your friends think well of you; but you mustn't let your good-nature get the better of your judgment."
"Perhaps I shouldn't have ventured so far." There was a hint of impatience in Millicent's gesture. "But are you content with your life in the North-West?"
"It has its charm. There are very few restrictions, one feels free. The fences haven't reached us yet; you can ride as far as you can see over miles of grass and through the clumps of bush. There's something attractive in the wide horizon; the riband of trail that seems to run forward for ever draws you on."
"But the Arctic frost and snow?"