"Well," she responded, "one could consider the reluctant way you spoke the last few words as flattering. I suppose it's a compliment to Canada?"
He failed to understand the light touch of mocking amusement in her tone; it had not dawned on him that this was her defense.
"It's a compliment to the Canadians, though my appreciation can't be worth very much. But I don't feel in a mood to joke. In fact, there's a feeling of depression abroad to-night; even your father seems affected. I'd expected a pleasant talk with him, but we were very dull."
"What made you think he was less cheerful than usual?" Flora cast a quick and rather startled glance at him.
"I don't know, but something seemed wrong. Edgar's the only one who looks undisturbed, and if he talks much going home, he'll get on my nerves."
"It's hardly fair to blame him for a depression that's your fault," said Flora. "You deserve to feel it, since you will go away."
Then Edgar came up with the wagon and George took Flora's hands.
"I shall think of you often," he told her. "It will always be with pleasure. Now and then you might, perhaps, spare a thought for me."
"I think I can promise that," Flora replied quietly.
Then he shook hands with Grant and got into the wagon. Edgar cracked the whip and the team plunged forward. With a violent jolting and a rattle of wheels they left the farm behind and drove out on to the prairie. Flora stood watching them for a while; and then walked back to the house in the gathering dusk with her face set hard and a pain at her heart.