Harold Edward Bindloss

“ The canoes were launched after breakfast, and it was afternoon when they pitched camp beside a still, blue lake. Then Major Kinnaird strolled away with a trout-rod to a neighboring rapid, and Mrs. Kinnaird went to sleep in a hammock. Her daughter got out her sketch-book, and sitting down among the boulders bade Ida summon Weston. He came, and stood looking at them inquiringly, picturesque in his wide hat and his fringed deerskin jacket. Miss Kinnaird pursed up her face.
"I want to make a sketch of you. You have rather a good head," she said. ”

“ There's always the disturbing element in a world that's full of men. It was, as I remarked, man who brought trouble into Paradise."
Miss Kinnaird was addicted to talking a good deal of nonsense, and she frequently wearied her listeners; but there was a certain shrewdness in her, and at times she got near the truth. Indeed, her companion afterward decided that she had done so in this case. Ida Stirling had met many rising young men, and some who had made their mark, but none of them had aroused in her the faintest thrill of unrest or passion. ”

“ Ida was not sure that she agreed with her; and, just then, Weston, swinging suddenly around, went down into the green depths, and, shooting up with white shoulders high above the water, swept away again down-stream. Miss Kinnaird rose as he did so, and turned back toward the camp.
"That packer is rather fine, considered as a muscular animal," she said.
Ida smiled at this, somewhat sardonically.
"In your country you wouldn't think of regarding him as anything else. Doesn't being an artist emancipate one from the conventional point of view?" ”