A. M. Chisholm

“ I was paddling,” said I, in excuse. “You know how it is in a canoe—so tottlish. You can't do what——”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” interrupted Florrie, with severity. “She was flirting shamelessly, and you were worse, if anything. I do not want to hear any more. If you must flirt with every girl who is silly enough to listen to you, at least don't tell me about it.” ”

“ I became satisfied that the procedure did not vary in the West; it is stereotyped, the world over. I lost interest, but followed matters out to their logical conclusion.
“How a good woman may twine herself around a man's heart! He will always carry your memory as something holy in his breast, and at the end—well, it is too bad, Florrie.”
“He said he would, Jack, and it was so sad—and I cried.” ”

“ He has been in the West most of the time, prospecting and-mining, and somehow he is quite different. I suppose it is the life. How lonely it must be, Jack, with nobody but Indians to talk to for weeks at a time!”
“I suppose he often thought of you and your old friendship when he was in the wilderness?” I ventured.
“Yes, he said he did.”
“No wonder. When a man shuts the door on civilization for a time, his thoughts almost invariably go back to it, and to the people he knew best, who helped to make his life what it was. ”