"One feels sorry for them; they have so much to bear." George felt that she wished to change the subject, and he followed her lead.
"I feel inclined to wonder where they all go to and how you employ them.

Your people still seem anxious to bring them in." "Yes," she replied thoughtfully, "It's rather a difficult question.

Of course, we pay high wages--people who say they must dispense with help and can't carry out useful projects would like to see them lower--but there's the long winter when, out West at least, very few men can work.
Then what the others have earned in summer rapidly melts." "But what do the Canadian farm-hands and mechanics think?
It wouldn't suit them to have wages broken down." West had come up a few moments earlier.
"It doesn't matter," he laughed; "they won't be consulted.

It's the other people who pull the strings, and they're adopting a forward policy--rush them all in; it's their lookout when they get here.
That's my opinion; though I'll own that I know remarkably little about western Canada." "You won't admit he's right," George said to the girl.
She looked grave.
"Sometimes," she answered, "I wonder." Then she turned to West.
"You don't seem impressed with the country," she said.
"As a rule, I try to be truthful.

The country strikes me as being pretty mixed, full of contrasts.