Her last day at home, having satisfied herself that nothing was forgotten, she spent a long hour in the Turner room in the Tate Gallery, drinking it all in for the last time.  When she left the building it was with a feeling that the last farewell to the old life was said.

To her great pleasure and a little to her surprise, Nora discovered herself to be a thoroughly good sailor.  As a consequence, the voyage to Montreal was quite the most delightful thing she had ever experienced.  The boat was a slow one but the time never once seemed long.  Indeed, as they approached their destination, she found herself wishing that the Western Continent might, by some convulsion of nature, be removed, quite safely, an indefinite number of leagues farther, or that they might make a detour by way of the antipodes, anything rather than bring the voyage to an end.

There were but few passengers at this season so that beyond the daily exchange of ordinary courtesies, she was able to pass much of the time by herself.  The weather was unusually fine for the time of year.  It was possible to spend almost all the daylight hours on deck, and with night came long hours of dreamless sleep such as she never remembered to have enjoyed since childhood.  As a consequence, it was a thoroughly rejuvenated Nora that landed in Montreal.  The stress and strain of the past summer was forgotten or only to be looked back upon as a sort of horrid nightmare from which she had happily awakened.

It was too late in the day after they had landed to think of continuing her journey.  Besides, as is often the case with people who have stood a sea voyage without experiencing any disagreeable sensations, Nora found that she still felt the motion of the boat after landing.

It seemed a pity, too, not to see something of this new-world city while she was on the ground.  Her brother’s farm was still an incredible distance farther west.  People thought nothing of distance in this amazing New World.  Still, it might easily be long before she would be here again.  The future was a blank page.  There was a delightful irresponsibility about the thought.  She had come over the sea at her brother’s bidding.  The future was his care, not hers.

The journey west had the same charm of novelty that the sea voyage had had.  The nearest station to Eddie’s farm was a place called Dyer in the Province of Manitoba, not far from Winnipeg.  Once inured to the new and strange mode of traveling in Canada, so different from what she had been accustomed to, Nora prepared to enjoy it.  Never before had she realized the possibilities of beauty in a winter landscape.  The flying prospect without the window fascinated her.  The magazines and papers with which she had provided herself lay unopened in her lap.  She realized that these vast snow-covered stretches might easily drive one mad with their loneliness and desolation if one had to live among them.  But to rush through them as they were doing was exhilarating.  It was all so strange, so contrary to any previous experience, that Nora had an uncanny feeling that they might easily have left the earth she knew and be flying through space.  She whimsically thought that if at the next stop she were to be told that she was on the planet Mars, she would not be greatly astonished.  It was like traveling with Alice in Wonderland.