“They were foolish,” Muriel told him. “Why are you so curious?”
“I’m interested.” He indicated the room and its occupants. “These people, their manners, and surroundings are typical of the New West.”
“Do you feel that you ought to defend them?”
“Oh, no! They don’t need it. They have their faults and their virtues, and neither are mean. They’ve the makings of a big nation and they’re doing great work to-day. However, you had certainly no cause for uneasiness; there’s not a man in the place who would have shown you the least disrespect.”
“After all,” Muriel contended, “they’re not your people. You came from Montreal; your ideas and habits are more like ours than theirs.”
“They’re mine by adoption; I’ve thrown in my lot with them.” He fixed his eyes on her. “Do you know the secret of making colonization a success? In a way, it’s a hard truth, but it’s this—there must be no looking back. The old ties must be cut loose once for all; a man must think of the land in which he prospers as his home; it’s not a square deal to run back with the money he has made in it. He must grow up with the rising nation he becomes a member of.”
“Yes,” Muriel conceded slowly; “I think that is so. But it’s harder for a woman.”
“And yet have you seen any one who looked unhappy?”
“No,” she admitted with thoughtful candor. “The few I have got to know seem to have an importance that perhaps is not very common at home. For instance, I heard Leslie giving his wife his reasons for thinking of buying some Hereford cattle, and his respect for her opinion impressed me.”
Prescott smiled.