"You may wonder why I have told you this—though I am not quite sure that you do," she said. "Well, you at least understand why I resent your sympathy, and if I had any other purpose it may perhaps appear to you when you think over what you have heard."

Anthea rose at last, and turned toward her quietly, but with a certain rigidity of pose which had its significance. She stood very straight and looked at her companion with big, grave eyes.

"You have, at least, said all I care to listen to," she said.

"And I think sufficient," said Eleanor, with a bitter smile.

Then, and it was a relief to Anthea, Forster came in, and dropped into a chair.

"I fancy Jake will fix that wheel; but he may be an hour yet, and it's very hot," he said. "I don't want to break off your talk, but perhaps you could make us some tea, Miss Wheelock. I don't feel like waiting until supper."

Eleanor went out, and Anthea found it cost her an effort to talk tranquilly to Forster. She liked the man, but her mind was busy, and had there been any means available she would gladly have escaped from him. It was evident that Eleanor Wheelock believed what she had told her. The rancher who had kept his jumper in the way was as clearly persuaded that Merril had injured him, and it was conceivable that the newspaper-man also believed his statements warranted. If they were right, her father must have treated several people with considerable harshness, but she could not bring herself to admit that—at least, just then. She naturally did not know Eleanor Wheelock had foreseen that once her doubts were aroused, enlightenment would presently follow. Then there was the latter's veiled suggestion that she was attracted by Jimmy Wheelock, and had condescended to cajole or encourage him. Had she been alone, her cheeks would have tingled at the thought of it, for in one respect the notion was intolerable. Still, though it cost her an effort, she contrived to discourse with Forster, until at last the hired man announced that the wheel was fixed, and, thanking the rancher for his offer to accompany her, she drove on to Vancouver alone.

CHAPTER XIX
WOOD PULP

The fresh northwest breeze that crisped the Inlet swept in through the open ports and set the cigar smoke eddying about the table, when Jimmy sat with Jordan and another man in the Shasta's little stern cabin. Looking forward through the hooked-back door, he could see the lower yards and serried shrouds of a big iron ship that was lying half-loaded on the Shasta's starboard side. Beyond her there rode a little schooner with reefed mainsail and boom foresail thrashing, while the musical clinketty-clank of her windlass betokened that she was just going to sea. Jimmy's face grew a trifle hard as he heard it, for she was the Tyee.