Behind his tenderness and patience she
had sometimes glimpsed something inflexible, unyielding as the
wilderness he loved. So she merely answered:
"In a way, yes."
"Let's go outside where I can smoke a decent cigar on top of this
fairly decent meal," he suggested. "Then we'll figure on the next
move. I think about twenty-four hours in Hazleton will do me. There's
a steamer goes down-river to-morrow."
CHAPTER XXIV
NEIGHBORS
Four days later they stood on the deck of a grimy little steamer
breasting the outgoing tide that surged through the First Narrows.
Wooded banks on either hand spread dusky green in the hot August sun.
On their left glinted the roofs and white walls of Hollyburn, dear to
the suburban heart. Presently they swung around Brockton Point, and
Vancouver spread its peninsular clutter before them. Tugs and launches
puffed by, about their harbor traffic. A ferry clustered black with
people hurried across the inlet. But even above the harbor noises,
across the intervening distance they could hear the vibrant hum of the
industrial hive.
"Listen to it," said Bill. "Like surf on the beaches. And, like the
surf, it's full of treacherous undercurrents, a bad thing to get into
unless you can swim strong enough to keep your head above water.
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