In another moment, a girl came along the platform through the groups of local passengers, who respectfully made way for her. She was tall, and her long outer garment failed to conceal her grace of movement and fine poise, though in the fading light her face was almost invisible beneath a large hat. The sight of her sent a thrill of satisfaction through the man; it was seldom that Millicent Gladwyne’s appearance was unwelcome to her friends. She approached him with outstretched hand.
“I drove over for you. Clarence couldn’t come; he was suddenly called up to town,” she began. “It would have been rather lonely for you to spend the first evening by yourself at the Lodge. You will come to us?”
“Thoughtful as ever,” smiled Nasmyth, with a little bow which was respectful as well as friendly. “I needn’t ask how you are; the way you walked along the platform was a testimony to our Border air.”
She laughed, softly and musically.
“It is more needful to inquire how you have stood your adventures?”
“I believe I’m thinner; but that isn’t astonishing, everything considered. I suppose Clarence is getting on pretty satisfactorily?”
“Clarence? Oh, yes!” There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice which Nasmyth noticed. “He has been in town a good deal of late. But come along; the horse—he’s a new one—is rather restive. They’ll send on your things.”
“The remnant of my outfit’s contained in one small bag,” laughed Nasmyth; “the rest’s scattered about the hillsides of British Columbia. I was a picturesque scarecrow when I reached the settlements.”
They moved away along the platform, and on reaching the trap he got up beside her and handed her the reins.
“I want to look about, if you don’t mind,” he explained.