upon your lost time from the day you
left New York until your return, both days inclusive, I will include
that in the check also."

"Suppose I should charge you one thousand dollars a day for my lost
time," she suggested curiously.

"I should pay it without the slightest quibble. The Laird would be
delighted to get off so cheaply. He feels himself obligated to you for
returning to Port Agnew--"

"Did The Laird send you here to adjust these financial details with
me, Mr. Daney?"

"He did not. The matter is entirely in my hands. Certainly, in all
justice, you should be reimbursed for the expenses of a journey
voluntarily incurred for the McKaye benefit."

"Did he say so?"

"No. But I know him so well that I have little difficulty in
anticipating his desires. I am acting under Mrs. McKaye's promise to
you over the telephone to reimburse you."

"I am glad to know that, Mr. Daney. I have a very high regard for
Donald's father, and I should not care to convict him of an attempt to
settle with me on a cash basis for declining to marry his son. I wish
you would inform The Laird, Mr. Daney, that what I did was done
because it pleased me to do it for his sake and Donald's. They have
been at some pains, throughout the years, to be kind to the Brents,
but, unfortunately for the Brents, opportunities for reciprocity have
always been lacking until the night Mrs. McKaye telephoned me in New
York. I cannot afford the gratification of very many desires--even
very simple ones, Mr. Daney--but this happens to be one of the rare
occasions when I can. To quote Sir Anthony Gloster, 'Thank God I can
pay for my fancies!' The Laird doesn't owe me a dollar, and I beg you,
Mr. Daney, not to distress me by offering it."

"But, my dear girl, it has cost you at least five hundred dollars--"

"What a marvelous sunset we had this evening, Mr. Daney. Did you
observe it? My father always maintained that those curious clouds
predicated sou'west squalls."

"I didn't come here, girl, to talk about sunsets. You're foolish if
you do not accept--"

The outcast of Port Agnew turned upon Mr. Daney a pair of sea-blue
eyes that flashed dangerously.

"I think I have paid my debt to the McKayes," she declared, and in her
calm voice there was a sibilant little note of passion. "Indeed, I
have a slight credit-balance due me, and though Mrs. McKaye and her
daughters cannot bring themselves to the point of acknowledging this
indebtedness, I must insist