“I fail to see why ye could no have let the whole thing stand over until the spring,” said Nairn. “The spruce winna run away.”
“I’d have done so had it been a few years earlier, but the whole country is overrun with mineral prospectors and timber-righters now. Every month’s delay gives somebody else a chance of getting in ahead of me.”
“Weel,” said Nairn resignedly. “I can only wish ye luck, but should ye be detained up yonder, if one of ye could sail across to Comox to see if there’s any mail there, it would be wise to do so.” He waved his hand. “No more of that; we’ll consider what tactics I had better adopt in case of delay.”
An hour had passed before they went down to join the guests who were arriving for the evening meal. As a rule, the Western business man, who is more or less engrossed in his occupation, except when he is asleep, enjoys little privacy; and his friends sometimes compared Nairn’s dwelling to the rotunda of an hotel. The point of this was that people of all descriptions who have nothing better to do are addicted to strolling into the combined bazaar and lounge which is attached to many Canadian hostelries.
As it happened, Vane sat next to Evelyn at table; but after a quiet reply to his first observation, she turned and talked to the man on her other side. Since the latter, who was elderly and dull, had only two topics—the most efficient means of desiccating fruit and the lack of railroad facilities—Vane was somewhat astonished that she appeared interested in his conversation, and by and by he tried again. He was not more successful this time, and his face grew warm as he realised that Evelyn was not inclined to talk to him. Being a very ordinary mortal and not particularly patient, he was sensible of some indignation, which was not diminished when, on looking round, Jessie Horsfield, who sat opposite, favoured him with a compassionate smile. He took his part in the general conversation, however, and the meal was over and the guests were scattered about the adjoining rooms, when, after impatiently waiting for the opportunity, he found Evelyn alone. She was standing with one hand on a table, looking rather thoughtful.
“I’ve come to ask what I’ve done,” he began.
Evelyn, who was not prepared for this blunt directness, felt disconcerted, but she broke into a chilly smile.
“The question’s rather indefinite, isn’t it?” she said. “Do you expect me to be acquainted with all your recent actions?”
“Then I’ll put the thing in another way—do you mind telling me how I have offended you?”
The girl almost wished that she could do so. Appearances were badly against him, but she felt that if he declared himself innocent she could take his word in the face of overwhelming testimony to the contrary, Unfortunately, however, it was unthinkable that she should plainly state the charge.