to bear. It's hateful to feel that you are being put up with.
Sometimes I thought I'd go back to Canada."

"I've wondered how you stood it as long as you did," George said
incautiously.

"Aren't you forgetting? I had Dick with me then." Sylvia paused and
shuddered. "It would be so different now."

George felt reproved and very compassionate.

"Yes," he said, "I'm afraid I forgot; but the whole thing seems unreal.
It's almost impossible to imagine your living on a farm in western
Canada."

"I dare say it's difficult. I'll confess I'm fond of ease and comfort
and refinement. I like to be looked after and waited on; to have
somebody to keep unpleasant things away. That's dreadfully weak, isn't
it? And because I haven't more courage, I'm sending you back to the
prairie."

"I'm quite ready to go."

"Oh, I'm sure of that! It's comforting to remember that you're so
resolute and matter-of-fact. You wouldn't let troubles daunt
you--perhaps you would scarcely notice them when you had made up your
mind."

The man smiled, rather wistfully. He could feel things keenly, and he
had his romance; but Sylvia resumed: