He looked after Jean as she left the room to dress for dinner, admiring her proud, erect carriage, and devoutly thankful that he should have several days in which to be with her. When she had gone, the two men resumed their seats, and proceeded to discuss the plans and business arrangements for Mr. Cameron’s prospective visit to Kay. But even while he was talking, Mr. Cameron’s decision in regard to the visit was wavering, and later, as he went upstairs, he shook his head and said to himself: “No, I can’t do it. Under the circumstances that visit is an impossibility.” That night, when they had come upstairs from dinner, he went to Jean’s door and knocked. “Jean,” he called. “Yes, Father.” “Can you come into my sitting-room? I want to talk with you.” They returned to his sitting-room, and Jean seated herself while her father walked slowly up and down the room. “I have been thinking about our going with Baird up to his mine. I told him that we would go; but if this fellow Loring is the manager there, I do not think that we can. I shall tell Baird that we find it impossible.” “Why?” asked Jean, although she well knew the reason. “Why?” echoed her father irritably. “Do you remember the insulting letter which he wrote to me after my offer of help to him at Dominion? Do you think it would be a pleasure to meet him again with that letter in mind?” “You never told me what you wrote in your letter to him,” replied Jean, parrying the question. “I offered him work in the north because I said we were under obligation to him for saving—That is, to repay my debt to him.” “I suppose that you made no conditions?” “Only that he should never cross our path again,” responded her father. “Of course I felt bound to tell him what I thought of him.” “In other words,” exclaimed Jean with spirit, “you insulted him, and now are angry that he was gentleman enough to refuse your offer. When he was practically starving, as Baird told me he was, he refused to take advantage of an unwilling obligation. Is that why you do not want to go to Kay?” There was pride in the quiver of her nostrils, and pity in her eyes, as she spoke. Mr. Cameron, like many strong men, was at a disadvantage in an argument with his daughter. Her strength of will was as great as his, and with it she combined an intuitive knowledge of whither to direct her questions, as a good fencer instinctively knows the weak points in his opponent’s defense. “You are trying to put me in the wrong, Jean,” said her father testily, “but the fact remains that we cannot go.” “The fact remains, Father, that you owe it to yourself to go, not only because you have promised Baird” (here she scored a strong point, for the keeping of his word was her father’s great pride), “but because you owe it to Mr. Loring to atone for the wrong that you did him.”