With a little sigh of content, Nasmyth settled himself in a canvas chair, and glanced out between the slender pillars of the cool veranda at the wall of dusky forest and the flashing sea.
“Ah,” he replied, “can you doubt it, my dear lady? After logging camp and mine and city, this is an enchanted land. I think it is always summer afternoon at Bonavista.”
Mrs. Acton smiled at him graciously. “That,” she observed, “was quite nice of you. Things haven’t gone just as you would have liked them to go, in the city?”
“They haven’t,” admitted Nasmyth whimsically. “As a matter of fact, they very seldom do. Still, I wouldn’t like you to think that was the only reason I am glad to get back.”
Mrs. Acton’s eyes twinkled. “I imagine I am acquainted with the other. You were rather tactful in going away.”
“I went because Mr. Acton handed me a letter which said that a business man in Victoria would like a talk with me.”
“In any case, Miss Hamilton seems to be under the impression that it was nice of you.”
“Nice of me to go away?” and Nasmyth’s tone was mildly reproachful.
“One would not resent a desire to save one any little embarrassment.”