The aunt stretched out an approving finger to the sound.

She realized that the figure round which her arms hung trembled, for it was the "through" daily train for Montreal.
"I'm going back at once, aunty," Junia said.
..........................
"Well, I'm jiggered!" These were Tarboe's words when Carnac's candidature came first to him in the press.
"He's 'broke' out in a new place," he added.
Tarboe loved the spectacular, and this was indeed spectacular.

Yet he had not the mental vision of Junia who saw how close, in one intimate sense, was the relation between the artist life and the political life.
To him it was a gigantic break from a green pasture into a red field of war.

To her, it was a resolution which, in anyone else's life, would have seemed abnormal; in Carnac's life it had naturalness.
Tarboe had been for a few months only the reputed owner of the great business, and he had paid a big price for his headship in the weighty responsibility, the strain of control; but it had got into his blood, and he felt life would not be easy without it now.
Besides, there was Junia.

To him she was the one being in the world worth struggling for; the bird to be caught on the wing, or coaxed into the nest, or snared into the net; and two of the three things he had tried without avail.