Lately she had found time pass very slowly. Her father
and brother had come home early in the evening, but went off directly
after supper to skin the seals, and she would see no more of them that
night. In all probability in a few days they would go on another
expedition.
A quick footstep crunching the sand and a voice saying, "Good evening,
Marie," made the girl turn round to see Noel McAllister standing beside
her.
She sprang to her feet and exclaimed, with a certain glad ring in her
voice:
"Oh! Noel, is that you? I am so pleased you are back."
"Yes, Marie, it is I, not my ghost, though you look as if you had seen
one. And are you pleased to see me?"
"Of course I am. I think you need scarcely ask that question."
"And what have you been doing, my dear one, since I have been away?"
"Oh! Noel, the time has seemed so long, so wearisome. There has been no
one here to speak to, except for a week or two when Eugene Lacroix came
home for his holidays. I used to watch him paint, and he talked to me
about his work at Laval."
"Marie, I don't like Eugene Lacroix. He is stupid, conceited,
impractical.
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