"Not at all," Boyd disclaimed, angrily. "Miss Malotte is a fine woman;" then, at Marsh's short laugh, "and her conduct bears favorable comparison with that of the other white people at Kalvik."
Marsh allowed his eyes to waver at this, but to Mildred he apologized.
"She is not the sort one cares to discuss."
"How do you know?" demanded Cherry's champion. "Do you know anything against her character?"
"I know she is a disturbing element at Kalviks and has caused us a great deal of trouble."
It was Boyd's turn to laugh. "But surely that has nothing to do with her character."
"My dear fellow"—Marsh shrugged his shoulders apologetically—"if I had dreamed she was a friend of yours, I never would have spoken."
"She is a friend," Emerson persisted doggedly, "and I admire her because she is a girl of spirit. If she had not been possessed of enough courage to disregard your instructions, I might have been forced to eject your watchman and take possession of one of your canneries."
"We can't entertain all comers. We leave that to Miss Malotte."
"And George Balt, eh?"
"Dear! dear!" laughed Miss Wayland. "I feel as if I were at a meeting of the Woman's Guild."