"You see, it isn't so much a suit-case as a parable," I explained.
He looked at me, still reluctant, with an air of perplexity.
"A badge of my friendship for you and your family," I enlarged. "You and
I, my boy, are pals, now. I take it you've left the Jervaises' service for
good. Imagine that this is Canada, not an infernal Park with a label on
every blade of grass warning you not to touch."
"That's all right," he agreed. "But it's extraordinary how it hangs about
you. You know--the feeling that they've somehow got you, everywhere. Damn
it, if I met the old man in the wood I don't believe I could help touching
my hat to him."
"Just habit," I suggested.
"A mighty strong one, though," he said.
"Wait till you're breathing the free air of Canada again," I replied.
"Ah! that's just it," he said. "I may have to wait."