Margaret looked at him rather hard, but said she did not mind, and Jimmy, indicating a cedar log, pulled out his cigarette case.
"Do you smoke?"
"I do not. In the bush, we haven't yet copied the girls at the hotels."
"Now I think about it, the girls who smoked at the Montreal hotel were not numerous," Jimmy remarked. "When I went to the fishing lodge in Scotland, all smoked, but then Stannard's friends are very much up-to-date. The strange thing is, we're thought antiquated in the Old Country——"
He stopped and tried to brace up. What he wanted to state eluded him. He felt cold and the pines across the trail got indistinct.
"You see, in some of our circles we rather feel our duty is to be modern," he resumed with an effort. "I think you're not like that. Canada's a new country, but, in a way, one feels you're really older than we are. We have got artificial; you are flesh and blood——"
"Don't talk!" said Margaret firmly, but Jimmy thought her voice was faint, and for a few moments the tall pines melted altogether.
When he looked up Margaret asked: "Have you got a tobacco pouch?"
Jimmy gave her the pouch and she went off. He was puzzled and rather annoyed, but somehow he could not get on his feet. By and by Margaret came back, carrying the pouch opened like a double cup. Jimmy drank some water and the numbness began to go.
"You're very kind. I expect I'm ridiculous," he said.