"The life I've led here, and the few weeks I spent at Kinnaird's camp, have rather spoiled me for the bush.

Some of the customs prevalent in the trail-choppers' shanties and the logging-camps are a little primitive, and one can't quite overcome a certain distaste for them." "That was not quite what I meant," said Ida.
Weston was startled, but she saw that he would not allow himself to wonder what she really did mean.
"Anyway," he answered doggedly, "I suppose I can bear any unpleasantness of that kind, which is fortunate, because there's apparently no way out of it.

After all, it's one consolation to feel that I'm only going back to what I was accustomed to before I found the mine." "Ah," said Ida, "you are very wrong in one respect.

You speak as if you could bear the trouble alone.

Don't you think it would hurt anybody else as much to let you go ?" Then, while the blood crept into her face, she fixed her eyes on him.