“No,” replied Weston quietly, looking her in the eyes. “I know you would say nothing that was not kind of me. Still, the only thing that would affect my people would be the fact that I haven’t succeeded at anything yet.” He smiled rather grimly. “I’m not sure it wouldn’t please them, in a way. You see, they probably expected it.”
On the whole, both of them were glad that Miss Farquhar came in just then; and in a few more minutes Stirling appeared, and they went in to dinner. It was not a very elaborate meal, for the contractor, who had once toiled much as Weston had done, was, like a good many others of his kind, in some respects a simple and frugal man. Still, when Ida and Miss Farquhar left them, he laid a cigar-box on the table and filled Weston’s glass with wine.
“Now,” he said, “if you have no objections, you can tell me what you’re doing in Montreal.”
Weston supplied him with a brief account of his business, and Stirling, who asked one or two very shrewd questions, sat apparently reflecting for a minute or two.
“You struck nobody in Vancouver who seemed inclined to take a hand in it?”
“Only one concern, and they seemed very doubtful. Anyway, their terms were practically prohibitive.”
“Grafton?”
“No. Norris & Lander.”
“Well,” said Stirling, “before you could expect to do anything here, you’d want to locate the reef and get some big mining man to visit it and give you a certificate that it was a promising property. If you had that, and a bag of specimens of high-grade milling ore, people would listen to you.”
“The trouble is that I can’t get them.”