e paper on the rustic seat, got up with
alacrity, and started for the house. He would be back in three or four
minutes, and not one of those minutes ought to be wasted. "Don't bother
with questions," she said to Basil, "but if you love me, make those
theatrical papers disappear before Mr. Somerled can read them. I'm going
to change my mind and follow him into the house to write my telegram.
I'll keep him a while talking. If he comes looking for his papers, I
want them to be gone. I depend on you!"

Without waiting for Basil's promise, she darted away in order to
intercept Somerled before he could finish his errand in the
drawing-room. Of course, it would be easy for him to buy more papers,
but before he could get them, Aline was hoping to have maneuvered the
embarrassing Miss MacDonald out of the house. She counted that Ian would
be long in finding the forms, because men never could find the simplest
things when told to look for them; but Somerled was an exception, and
she only just caught him on the threshold. "After all, I want your
advice instead of Basil's," she said. "Do sit here where we shall be
quiet, and let me consult you." She patted the arm of a big
chintz-covered sofa invitingly, and as she sat down Ian followed suit.
Still she did not know what on earth to say to him. She hoped for an
inspiration at the last instant, as Basil had taught her to do in
arranging a difficult situation between hero and heroine. She wanted to
play heroine now with Somerled as hero. Oh, how much she wanted it!

She took a long breath which _must_ bring that inspiration at the end of
it, if inspiration were to be of use. And it came at command, as things
good or bad do come if intensely desired. But it was such a thoroughly
objectionable inspiration that she hardly dared snap at it as she
wished, for Aline was not malicious, and disliked malice and all
uncharitableness as she disliked smearing her pink and white fingers
with ink. Still, no alternative idea occurred to her, and Somerled was
waiting. In desperation she had to take what offered, excusing herself
to herself with every word she spoke. Yet through all she could not help
thinking that she was clever, that she had marvellous presence of mind,
and that she was displaying an inventive faculty which would have
surprised Basil, though, of course, he must never know, because men were
often as idiotically conscientious about little things as they were
unscrupulous about big on