d had looked, what he had
said and done, than in my opinion of Mrs. Bal.

"What do _you_ think he means to do?" she appealed to me, desperately.
"Do you think he's so infatuated with Barrie that he'll offer to take
the girl off her mother's hands and marry her?"

"I've been studying Somerled for both our sakes," I said. "What I think
is, he's been telling himself the girl is too young and all that, and
ought to have a chance to meet a lot of other men. Yet he's seen how she
unconsciously attracts every male creature who comes along, and that
it's a danger for her if----"

"_Unconsciously_ attracts! But I forgot, you're infatuated too. And she
_doesn't_ attract everybody. George Vanneck hardly considers her pretty.
He can't bear this rising generation of long-legged young colts, he
says; and he calls her hair carrots."

"We'll cross George off the list. It's long enough without him, and
increasing with leaps and bounds. There'll probably be more names on it
by to-morrow night" (evidently I have a prophetic soul). "But to go back
to Somerled. Of course he foresaw something of what happened to-day: but
Barrie's face when Mrs. Bal suggested being a sister to her was enough
to turn a man of marble into a man of fire; and I don't think Somerled's
resolutions up to that point were as hard even as sandstone. He must see
now, as I do, that there'll be no place for the poor child with her
mother, whether Mrs. Bal marries a millionaire or goes gayly on with her
career as an actress. What is to become of a girl like Barrie, left to
her own devices, with every man--well, let's say every _second_ man--who
passes, stopping to flirt if not to propose? My fear is that Somerled's
resolutions are turning round the other way, and that he's contemplating
himself as permanent guardian--if Barrie'll take him."

"Take him! She'll snap at him. She shows her feelings in the most
disgusting way. Oh, my _dear_ boy! I apologize. But I have feelings
too--as you know only too well."

"I'm afraid she _is_ getting to like him," I said, "but I persuade
myself, anyhow, that she's more in love with love in general than with
Somerled in particular. She's under the influence of the heather moon."

"I'm not going to let her have Somerled!" Aline cried out sharply. "I
can't bear it. Can you?"

"I'm an idiot about the girl," I admitted. "I get worse every day. The
more flies that collect round the honey the more I want it myself. I
didn't know I was t