A few minutes later he went into the house with Carroll, and as they entered it he glanced at his companion. "In the present instance, Mr.

Vane's views are sound," he said. "But I see difficulties before him."

"So do I. When he grapples with him it will be by a frontal attack."

"A bit of compromise is judicious now and then."

"In a general way it's not likely to appeal to my partner. When he can't get through by direct means, there'll be something wrecked. You had better understand what kind of man he is."

"It's no the first time I've been enlightened upon the point."

Shortly after they had disappeared, Miss Horsfield came out of another door, and Vane rose when she approached him.

"Mrs. Nairn told me I would find you and the others in the verandah,"

she informed him. "She said she would join you presently, and it was too fine to stay in."

"I think she was right," Vane replied. "As you see, I'm alone. Nairn and Carroll have just deserted me, but I can't complain. What pleases me most about this house is that you can do what you like in it, and--within limits--the same thing applies to this city."

Jessie laughed, and sank gracefully into the chair he drew forward.

"Yes," she said. "I think that would please you. But how long have you been back?"

"A fortnight, since yesterday."

There was a hint of reproach in the glance Jessie favoured him with.

"Then I think Mrs. Nairn might have brought you over to see us."

Vane wondered if she meant she was surprised he had not come of his own accord, and he was mildly flattered.

"I was away at the mine a good deal of the time," he replied deprecatingly.

"I wonder if you are sorry to get back?"

Turning a little, Vane indicated the climbing city, rising tier on tier above its water front; and then the broad expanse of blue inlet and the faint white line of towering snow.

"Wouldn't anything I could say in praise of Vancouver be trifle superfluous?" he asked.

Jessie recognised that he had parried her question neatly, but this did not deter her. She was anxious to learn if he had felt any regret in leaving England, or, to be more concise, if there was anybody in that country whom he had reluctantly parted from. She admitted that the man attracted her. There was a breezy freshness about him, and though she was acquainted with a number of young men whose conversation was characterised by snap and sparkle, they needed toning down. This miner was set apart from them by something which he had doubtless acquired in youth in the older land.

"That wasn't quite what I meant," she said. "We don't always want to be flattered, and I'm in search of information. You told me you had been nine years in this country, and life must be rather different yonder.

How did it strike you after the absence?"

"It's difficult to explain," Vane replied with an air of amused reflection which hinted that he meant to get away from the point. "On the whole, I think I'm more interested in the question how I struck them. It's curious that whereas some folks insist upon considering me English here, I've a suspicion that they looked upon me as a typical colonial there."

"One wouldn't like to think you resented it."

"How could I? This land sheltered me when I was an outcast, and set me on my feet."

"Ah!" said Jessie, "you are the kind we don't mind taking in. The rest go back and abuse us. But you haven't given me very much information yet."

"Then," said Vane, "the best comparison is supplied by my first remark--that in this city you can do what you like. You're rather fenced in yonder, which, if you're of a placid disposition, is, no doubt, comforting, because it shuts out unpleasant things. On the other hand, if you happen to be restless and active, the fences are inconvenient, because you can't always climb over, and it is not considered proper to break them down. Still, having admitted that, I'm proud of the old land.

It's only the fences that irritate me."

"Fences would naturally be obnoxious to you. But we have some here."

"They're generally built loose, of split-rails, and not nailed. An energetic man can pull off a bar or two and stride over. If it's necessary, he can afterwards put them up again, and there's no harm done."

"Would you do the latter?"

Vane's expression changed. "No," he said. "I think if there were anything good on the other side, I'd widen the gap so that the less agile and the needy could crawl through." He smiled at her. "You see, I owe some of them a good deal. They were the only friends I had when I first tramped, jaded and footsore, about the province."

Jessie was pleased with his answer. She had heard of the bush choppers'

free hospitality, and she thought it was a graceful thing that he should acknowledge his debt to them.

"Now at last you'll be content to rest a while," she suggested. "I dare say you deserve it."

"It's strange you should say that, because just before you came out of the house I was thinking that I'd sat still long enough," Vane answered with a laugh. "It's a thing that gets monotonous. One must keep going on."

"Then," said Jessie, "take care you don't walk over a precipice some day when you have left all the fences behind. But I've kept you from your meditations, and I had better see if Mrs. Nairn is coming."

She left him, and he was lighting a cigar when he noticed a girl whose appearance seemed familiar in the road below. Moving along the verandah, he recognised her as Kitty, and hastily crossed the lawn towards her.

She was accompanied by a young man whom Vane had once seen in the city, but she greeted him with evident pleasure.

"Tom," she said, when they had exchanged a few words, "this is Mr.

Vane," Then turning to Vane she added: "Mr. Drayton."

Vane, who liked the man's face and manner, shook hands with him, and then looked back at Kitty.

"What are you doing now, and how are little Elsie and her mother?" he inquired.

Kitty's face clouded. "Mrs. Marvin's dead. Elsie's with some friends at Spokane, and I think she's well looked after. I've given up the stage.

Tom"--she explained shyly--"didn't like it. Now I'm with some people at a ranch near the Fraser on the Westminster road. There are two or three children and I'm fond of them."

Drayton smiled. "She won't be there long. I've wanted to meet you for some time, Mr. Vane. They told me at the office that you were away."

"Ah!" said Vane, "I suppose my congratulations won't be out of place.

Won't you ask me to the wedding?"

Kitty blushed. "Will you come?"

"Try," said Vane, and Drayton broke in:

"There's n.o.body we would sooner see. I'm heavily in your debt, Mr.

Vane."

"Oh, pshaw!" rejoined Vane. "Come and see me any time: to-morrow, if you can manage it."

Drayton said he would do so, and shortly afterwards he and Kitty moved away, but Vane, who turned back across the lawn, was not aware that Jessie had watched the meeting from the verandah and had recognised Kitty, whom she had once seen at the station. She had already ascertained that the girl had arrived at Vancouver in his company, which, in view of the opinion she had formed about him, somewhat puzzled her; but she said one must endeavour to be charitable. Besides, having closely watched the little group, she was inclined to believe from the way Vane shook hands with the man that there was no danger to be apprehended from Kitty.