He had taken just the right tone.  His easy reference to ‘home’ and to their common possession of even so humble a piece of furniture as a stove, as if they were an old married couple returning home after paying a visit, had a restorative effect on nerves still a little jangly.  That was the only way to look at it:  In a thoroughly commonplace manner.  As he had said himself, it was a business undertaking.  She gave a perfectly natural little laugh.

“No, I haven’t a stove; only a few books.  I didn’t realize how heavy they were.  I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said heartily.  “You can read to me evenings.  I guess a little more book-learning’ll polish me up a bit and I’ll be right glad of the chance.  You’re not afraid to stand at the horses’ heads, are you, while Reg runs up here?”

“No, of course not.”

She could hear Gertie in the pantry as she crossed the living-room.  She was grateful to her for not coming out to make any show of leave-taking.  Having sent Reggie on his errand, she stood stroking the horses’ soft noses while waiting for the men to return.  Just as they reached the door, Eddie came slowly over to her from the barn.  His face was haggard.  He looked older than she had ever seen him.

“Nora,” he said in a low tone, “I beg you, before it is too late——­”

“Please, dear,” she whispered, her hand on his, “you only make it harder.”

“I’ll write, Eddie, oh, in a few days, and tell you all about my new home,” she called gayly, as Frank, having disposed of her trunk in the back of the wagon, lifted her in.  Her brother turned without a word to the others and went into the house.

As she felt herself for the second time in those arms, the reaction came.

“Eddie, Eddie!”

But, strangled by sobs, her voice hardly carried to the man on the seat in front of her.

As he sprang in, Frank gave the horses a flick with the whip.  The afternoon air was keen and the high-spirited team needed no further urging.  They swung out of the farm gate at a pace that made Reggie cling to the seat.

When he had them once more in hand, Taylor turned his head slightly.

“All right back there?” he called, without looking at her.

She managed a “Yes.”

She had only just recovered her self-control as they drove into Winnipeg.  As they drew up in front of the principal hotel, Taylor turned the reins once more over to Reggie, and, vaulting lightly from his seat, held out his hand and helped her to alight.

“You’d better go into the ladies’ parlor for a minute or two.  I’m feeling generous and am going to blow Reg to a parting drink.  I’ll come after you in a minute and take you to the Y. W. C. A.”

“Very well.”

“Here,” he called, as she turned toward the door marked Ladies’ Entrance, “aren’t you going to say good-by to Reg?”

For a moment she almost lost her hardly regained self-control.  To say good-by to Reg was the final wrench.  She had known him in those immeasurably far-off days at home.  It was saying good-by to England.  She held out her hand without speaking.