um.

"To make this trip, I mean, all by herself."

"Is it just to see the country?" asked Stonor diffidently.

"Oh, don't you know? She's on the staff of the _Winnipeg News-Herald_,
and is writing up the trip for her paper."

Stonor instantly made up his mind to spend his next leave in Winnipeg.
His relief was due in October.

John Gaviller could do things in good style when he was moved to it. The
table was gay with silver under candle-light. Down the centre were
placed great bowls of painter's brush, the rose of the prairies. And
with the smiling ladies to grace the head of the board, it was like a
glimpse of a fairer world to the men of the North. Miss Pringle was on
Gaviller's right, Miss Starling on his left. Stonor was about half-way
down the table, and fortunately on the side opposite the younger lady,
where he could gaze his fill.

She was wearing a pink evening dress trimmed with silver, that to
Stonor's unaccustomed eyes seemed like gossamer and moonshine. He was
entranced by her throat and by the appealing loveliness of her thin
arms. "How could I ever have thought a fat woman beautiful!" he asked
himself. She talked with her arms and her delightfully restless
shoulders. Stonor had heard somewhere that this was a sign of a warm
heart. For the first time he had a view of her hair; it was dark and
warm and plentiful, and most cunningly arranged.

Stonor was totally unaware of what he was eating. From others, later, he
learned of the triumph of the kitchen--and all at three hours' notice.
Fortunately for him, everybody down the table was hanging on the talk at
the head, so that no efforts in that direction were required of him. He
was free to listen and dream.

"Somewhere in the world there is a man who will be privileged some day
to sit across the table from her at every meal! Not in a crowd like
this, but at their own table in their own house. Probably quite an
ordinary fellow, too, certainly not worthy of his luck. With her eyes
for him alone, and her lovely white arms!--While other men are batching
it alone. Things are not evenly divided in this world, for sure! If that
man went to hell afterwards it wouldn't any more than square things."

In answer to a question he heard her say: "Oh, don't ask me about
Winnipeg! All cities are so ordinary and usual! I want to hear about
your country. Tell me stories about the fascinating silent places."

"Well, as it happens," said Gaviller, speaking slowly to g