All the same, it's not important.

We were talking about getting home, and since the boys have not come for us we had better start." The loon had flown away and nothing broke the surface of the lake; the shadows had got longer and driven back the light.

Thin mist drifted about the islands, the green glow behind the trunks was fading, and it would soon be dark.
"In winter, the big timber wolves prowl about the woods," Barbara remarked.

"Horrible, savage brutes! I expect you saw the heads at the packer's house.

Still, one understands they stay North until the frost begins." She got up, and when they set off Grace looked regretfully across the lake, for she would sooner have gone home on board the fishing bateau.
She was puzzled.