He was our camp-packer, the man who set up the tents, made the fires, and poled the canoes," she said.
Weston stood up and, looking hard at Kinnaird, straightened himself.
His face was an unpleasant red, and there was badly-suppressed anger in his eyes.
"Time is getting on, and we have rather a long drive," he said.

"I may ask Miss Stirling's leave to call on her later.

In the meanwhile, if Mrs.Kinnaird will excuse us----" His hostess made no attempt to keep him; and, as he moved away, his daughter stopped for a moment beside Ida's chair.
"I don't know whether what you have done was excusable or not, but you have, at least, succeeded in making the breach between Clarence and his father wider than ever," she said.

"That was probably what you intended ?" Ida was momentarily puzzled.
"Intended ?" she said.

"If either of you had done your brother justice, I don't think I should have mentioned him at all." Miss Weston smiled scornfully and moved away, but the blood crept into the face of the girl she left.