Lister lighted a fresh cigarette. Vernon's keenness rather puzzled him, but he thought he had told the fellow enough. In fact, he doubted if the girl would approve his frankness. He was not going to state that he had met her at Montreal. Anyhow, not yet. If Vernon talked about the thing again and gave proper grounds for his curiosity, he might perhaps satisfy him.
"She was young," he answered vaguely. "Attractive, something of a looker, I think. I don't know much about women's clothes."
"Oh, well!" said Vernon. "You helped her off and Shillito found this out and got after you?"
"He got after me when he saw he was corraled," Lister replied, and narrated his struggle on the platform. He was now willing to tell Vernon all he wanted to know, but saw the other's interest was not keen and they presently began to talk about something else.
"What are you going to do in the Old Country?" Vernon asked.
"I have no plans. For a time, I guess I'll loaf and look about. Then I want to see my father's folks, whom I haven't met."
"Your father was English?"
"Why, yes," said Lister, smiling. "If you reckon up, you'll find a big proportion of the staunchest Canadians' parents came from the Old Country. In fact, I sometimes feel Canada belongs to us and the boys of the sourdough stock. Between us we have given the country its stamp and made it a land for white men; but we'll soon be forced to make good our claim. If we're slack, we'll be snowed under by folks from Eastern Europe whose rules and habits are not ours."
Vernon nodded. "It's a problem we have got to solve. But are you going back to the railroad when you have looked about?"
"I'm going back some time, but, now I have pulled out, I want to see all I can. I'd like to look at Europe, Egypt and India."