“It isn’t so very new,” Lorne told him, in rather dull response, “but I expect that’s a pretty good line to take.  Why, yes—­first rate.”

“As to the line,” Hesketh went on, weightily, leading the way through an encumbering group of farmers at a corner, “I’ve selected that, too.  Traction-engines.  Milburn has never built them yet, but he says the opportunity is ripe—­”

“Milburn!” Lorne wheeled sharply.

“My future partner.  He was planning extensions just as I came along, a fortunate moment, I hope it will prove, for us both.  I’d like to go into it with you, some time when you have leisure—­it’s a scheme of extraordinary promise.  By the way, there’s an idea in it that ought to appeal to you—­driving the force that’s to subdue this wilderness of yours.”

“When you’ve lived here for a while,” said Lorne, painfully preoccupied, “you’ll think it quite civilized.  So you’re going in with Milburn?”

“Oh, I’m proud of it already!  I shall make a good Canadian, I trust.  And as good an imperialist,” he added, “as is consistent with the claims of my adopted country.”

“That seems to be the popular view,” said Lorne.

“And a very reasonable view, too.  But I’m not going to embark on that with you, old fellow—­you shan’t draw me in.  I know where you are on that subject.”

“So do I—­I’m stranded.  But it’s all right—­the subject isn’t,” Lorne said quietly; and Hesketh’s exclamations and inquiries brought out the morning’s reverse.  The young Englishman was cordially sorry, full of concern and personal disappointment, abandoning his own absorbing affairs, and devoting his whole attention to the unfortunate exigency which Lorne dragged out of his breast, in pure manfulness, to lay before him.

However, they came to the end of it, arriving at the same time at the door which led up the stairs to the office of Fulke, Warner, and Murchison.

“Thank you,” said Lorne. ’"Thank you.  Oh, I dare say it will come all right in the course of time.  You return to England, I suppose—­or do you?—­before you go in with Milburn?”

“I sail next week,” said Hesketh, and a great relief shot into the face of his companion.  “I have a good deal to see to over there.  I shan’t get back much before June, I fancy.  And—­I must tell you—­I am doing the thing very thoroughly.  This business of naturalizing myself, I mean.  I am going to marry that very charming girl—­a great friend of yours, by the way, I know her to be—­Miss Milburn.”

For accepting the strokes of fate we have curiously trivial demonstrations.  Lorne met Hesketh’s eye with the steadiness of a lion’s in his own; the unusual thing he did was to take his hands out of his pockets and let his arms hang loosely by his side.  It was as tragic a gesture of helplessness as if he had flung them above his head.

“Dora is going to marry you?”

“I believe she will do me that honour.  And I consider it an honour.  Miss Milburn will compare with any English girl I ever met.  But I half expected you to congratulate me.  I know she wrote to you this morning—­you were one of the first.”