"He's no doubt busy somewhere."
"I'm inclined to believe so, and, in a way, his silence is reassuring.
Flett can work without making a disturbance, and that is in his favor.
But what has become of Mr. West? We haven't seen much of him of late."
"He has fallen into a habit of riding over to the settlement in his spare time, which isn't plentiful."
"Ah!" exclaimed Flora; "that agrees with some suspicions of mine.
Don't you feel a certain amount of responsibility?"
"I do," George admitted. "Still, he's rather head-strong, and he hasn't told me why he goes to the Butte; though the girl's father gave me a hint. I like Taunton—he's perfectly straightforward—and I'd almost made up my mind to ask your opinion about the matter, but I was diffident."
"I'll give it to you without reserve—there's no ground for uneasiness on West's account; he might fall into much worse hands. If Helen Taunton has any influence over him, it will be wisely used. Besides, she has been well educated; she spent a few years in Montreal."
"She has a nice face; in fact, she's decidedly pretty."
"And that would cover a multitude of shortcomings?"
"Well," said George, thoughtfully, "mere physical beauty is something to be thankful for; though I'm not sure that beauty can be, so to speak, altogether physical. When I said the girl had a nice face, I meant that its expression suggested a wholesome character."
"You seem to have been cultivating your powers of observation," Flora told him. "But I'm more disposed to consider the matter from Helen's point of view. As it happens, she's a friend of mine and I've reasons for believing that your partner's readily susceptible and inclined to be fickle. Of course, I'm not jealous."