Carmen was a blonde, but with none of the softness that often characterizes this type of beauty.  Her features were sharply cut, her well-proportioned figure was firmly lined, and the lack of color in her face was made up for by the keen sparkle in her eyes.  As a rule, Carmen Austin’s wishes were carried out.  She knew how to command, and rival beauties who now and then ventured to oppose her soon found that her power was unshakable.

“You haven’t thought it worth while to ask for a dance yet,” she remarked, and Foster could not tell if she was offended or not.

“No,” he replied, smiling, “I was afraid of getting a disappointment, since I didn’t know your plans, but only made a few engagements in case you sent for me.  One finds it best to wait your orders.”

Carmen studied him thoughtfully.  “You generally take the proper line; sometimes I think you’re cleverer than you look.  Anyway, one isn’t forced to explain things to you.  Explaining what one wants is always annoying.”

“Exactly.  My business is to guess what you would like and carry it out as far as I can.  When I’m right this saves you some trouble and gives me keen satisfaction.  It makes me think I am intelligent.”

“Our boys are a pretty good sample, but they don’t talk like that.  I suppose you learned it in the Old Country.  You know, you’re very English, in some respects.”

“Well,” said Foster, “that is really not my fault.  I was born English, but I’ll admit that I’ve found it a drawback since I came to Canada.”

Carmen indicated the chair next her.  “You may sit down if you like.  You start for the Old Country on Thursday, don’t you?”

“Thank you; yes,” said Foster.  “One likes to be in the fashion, and it’s quite the proper thing to make the trip when work’s finished for the winter.  You find miners saving their wages to buy a ticket, and the Manitoba men sail across by dozens after a good harvest.  As they often maintain that the Old Country’s a back number, one wonders why they go.”

“After all, I suppose they were born there.”

“That doesn’t seem to count.  As a rule, there’s nobody more Canadian first of all than the man who’s only a Canadian by adoption.”

“Then why do you want to go?”

“I can’t tell you.  I had a hard life in England and, on the whole, was glad to get away.  Perhaps it’s a homing instinct, like the pigeon’s, and perhaps it’s sentiment.  We came out because nobody wanted us and have made ourselves pretty comfortable.  America’s our model and we have no use for English patronage, but every now and then the pull comes and we long to go back, though we wouldn’t like to stop there.  It’s illogical, but if there was trouble in Europe and the Old Country needed help, we’d all go across.”

“In a mild way, the journey’s something of an adventure,” Carmen suggested.  “Doesn’t that appeal to a man?”