It took him some time to escape from Isabel. Normally he would not have minded her chatter nor her appropriation of himself. But just now his mind held tenaciously to something which had been nagging him ever since that interview in the library. When he saw Phil give over a palpable attempt to segregate Laska and saunter off toward the float landing, he excused himself and followed. They walked down the slope together, out on the slip, seated themselves on a bench. "Give me a cigarette," Rod demanded abruptly, as his first utterance. Phil handed over his case. Rod lit one. "Getting real devilish," Phil bantered. "Was Grove aboard the _Haida_ when you came through the rapids this afternoon? I didn't see him." "Down below, I suppose," Phil replied. "I didn't notice. But he was with us. Why?" "I thought so. What a skunk he is. Yet in this family he's the little tin god on wheels. He thinks everybody is as rotten as himself, too." "You shouldn't talk like that," Phil remonstrated mildly. "It's true. You know it is." For a second Phil said nothing to this. "One can't go about shouting unpleasant truths," he observed then. "What's wrong, anyhow?" "I'm to be packed off to McGill day after to-morrow." "But the term doesn't begin for weeks yet." "Oh, I'm to visit Aunt Maida and explore the historic city which has justified its existence by containing the seat of learning where my forefathers absorbed the knowledge and culture which has enabled them to lead such eminently successful and praiseworthy lives," Rod drawled. "Well, that's no great grief," Phil replied. "Nothing to get fussed up over." "It was generally understood I was to begin next year. I'm being packed off as a punishment. It seems the family dignity is being compromised by my running rapids in a dugout with a girl." "Well?" Phil waited patiently. "Grove put a bug in the governor's ear," Rod dropped allusion for plain facts. "The governor wouldn't have thought of disciplining me. Grove's a damned snob. He has his gang here. He thinks I ought to spend my time entertaining them. He imagines it is a reflection on him that I prefer to play with Mary Thorn. Out of his own messy mind he takes it for granted--the governor would never of his own accord have suggested that I was--that I might--oh, damn! I don't like Grove's filthy insinuations, Phil. And I couldn't talk back to the governor. If it weren't for all these people here, I'd beat Grove up for his pains." "You're hardly up to that yet," Phil smiled indulgently. "Don't you fool yourself," Rod declared hotly. "I weigh a hundred and fifty-five stripped. I'm as hard as a rock--and he's mush. You know it, Philip. He's lapped up too much hard liquor, and dallied too much with that woman he keeps in the Bute Street flat to--to stand the gaff very long." "Good Lord; nothing gets by you," Phil grunted. "How do you know these things?"