Jessie recognised that he had parried her question neatly, but this did not deter her. She was anxious to learn if he had felt any regret in leaving England, or, to be more concise, if there was anybody in that country whom he had reluctantly parted from. She admitted that the man attracted her. There was a breezy freshness about him, and though she was acquainted with a number of young men whose conversation was characterised by snap and sparkle, they needed toning down. This miner was set apart from them by something which he had doubtless acquired in youth in the older land. "That wasn't quite what I meant," she said. "We don't always want to be flattered, and I'm in search of information. You told me you had been nine years in this country, and life must be rather different yonder. How did it strike you after the absence?" "It's difficult to explain," Vane replied with an air of amused reflection which hinted that he meant to get away from the point. "On the whole, I think I'm more interested in the question how I struck them. It's curious that whereas some folks insist upon considering me English here, I've a suspicion that they looked upon me as a typical colonial there." "One wouldn't like to think you resented it." "How could I? This land sheltered me when I was an outcast, and set me on my feet." "Ah!" said Jessie, "you are the kind we don't mind taking in. The rest go back and abuse us. But you haven't given me very much information yet." "Then," said Vane, "the best comparison is supplied by my first remark--that in this city you can do what you like. You're rather fenced in yonder, which, if you're of a placid disposition, is, no doubt, comforting, because it shuts out unpleasant things. On the other hand, if you happen to be restless and active, the fences are inconvenient, because you can't always climb over, and it is not considered proper to break them down. Still, having admitted that, I'm proud of the old land. It's only the fences that irritate me." "Fences would naturally be obnoxious to you. But we have some here." "They're generally built loose, of split-rails, and not nailed. An energetic man can pull off a bar or two and stride over. If it's necessary, he can afterwards put them up again, and there's no harm done." "Would you do the latter?" Vane's expression changed. "No," he said. "I think if there were anything good on the other side, I'd widen the gap so that the less agile and the needy could crawl through." He smiled at her. "You see, I owe some of them a good deal. They were the only friends I had when I first tramped, jaded and footsore, about the province." Jessie was pleased with his answer. She had heard of the bush choppers' free hospitality, and she thought it was a graceful thing that he should acknowledge his debt to them. "Now at last you'll be content to rest a while," she suggested. "I dare say you deserve it."