Bob’s recovery was long. He had got a dangerous shock, and although his broken bones began to mend, his body was slack and his brain was dull. Perhaps his languidness was a natural reaction from the strain of anxious thought and stubborn labor, but his progress was slow, and for the most part, the news Helen allowed him to get from the settlement did not help.
At length, one morning, he occupied a couch by the window of his room at the hotel. Maxwell, in an easy-chair, studied some documents and smoked a cigarette. Bob’s pipe had gone out; the tobacco did not taste good. The window commanded the Inlet and on the other side white hills shone in the sun. A boisterous north wind ruffled the water, and although the radiator was not far off, Bob shivered. On the British Columbian coast, winter
