"Snubbed again," muttered Coristine to himself; then aloud: "I wish I were Timotheus."
"If you prefer Tryphosa's company to mine, sir, you are at liberty to go; but I think your champion of Peskiwanchow would object to such rivalry."
"Oh, I didn't mean with Tryphosa."
"You do not know what you mean, nor anybody else. Let us return to the house."
As they sauntered back, the lawyer suddenly cried out: "What a forgetful blockhead I am. I have had ever so many business questions to put to you, and have forgotten all about them."
"Had you not better leave business till to-morrow, Mr. Coristine?" asked the lady, gravely, almost severely.
"Your father's name was James Douglas Carmichael, was it not?" asked Coristine, ignoring this quietus.
"Yes," she answered.
"He came to Canada in 1848, and was, for a time, in military service at Kingston, before he completed his medical studies. Am I right?"
"How do you happen to know these things? My father was singularly reticent about his past life; but you are right."