to see Ruth again. Ruth was kind, but she would soon forget him when he
was gone. He would go to Winnipeg Beach with her, and then return to the
woods and let his job absorb him. In the meantime, his head had begun to
ache and he went to bed.

The Saturday morning was typical of Winnipeg in summer. The fresh
northwest breeze that sweeps the Manitoba plains had dropped. Dark
thunder-clouds rolled about the sky, but the sun was hot and an
enervating humidity brooded over the town. The perspiring crowd in Main
Street moved slackly, the saloon bars were full, and the groups of
holiday-makers flocking to the station wore a languid look.

Lister met his hosts in the marble waiting hall where a gold-framed
panorama of Canadian scenery closes the view between the rows of stately
pillars. Duveen had brought three or four keen-eyed, nervous business
men, a rather imposing lady, and Ruth, and they got on board a local
train soon after Lister arrived. Winnipeg Beach was then beginning to
attract holiday-makers from the prairie town. One could row and fish in
sheltered bays, and adventure on board a gasoline launch into the
northern wilds. Boating, however, had no charm for Duveen's friends. The
excursion was an opportunity for friendly business talk, and when lunch
was over Ruth and Lister went out on the lawn in front of the hotel.

There was no wind. A few dark clouds floated motionless overhead, but
outside their shadow the lake shone like glass, running back until it
melted into faint reflections on the horizon. A varnished launch flashed
in the sun and trailed a long white wake across the water.

"Do you want to stay and talk to Mrs. Knapp?" Ruth asked.