2/55 It had manicured him down to a fine point of civilization. A fine point! He wanted to laugh, but he had need of all his breath as he _clip-clip-clipped_ on his snow shoes behind the Missioner. This was the last thing in the world he had dreamed of, all this snow, all this emptiness that loomed up ahead of him, a great world filled only with trees and winter. He disliked winter; he had always possessed a physical antipathy for snow; romance, for him, was environed in warm climes and sunny seas. He had made a mistake in telling Father Roland that he was going to British Columbia--a great mistake. |