“Why not the Lewis?” said Sheila, her heart turning to the North as naturally as the needle.

“Or the Lewis.  And I should like you and him to live away from hotels and luxuries, and all such things; and he would work all day, and you would do the cooking in some small cottage you could rent, you know.”

“You make me so happy in thinking of that,” she said, with her eyes growing wet again.

“And why should he not do so?  There is nothing romantic or idyllic about it, but a good, wholesome, plain sort of life, that is likely to make an honest painter of him, and bring both of you some well-earned money.  And you might have a boat like this.”

“We are drifting too far in,” said Sheila, suddenly rising.  “Shall we go back now?”

“By all means,” he said; and so the small boat was put under canvas again, and was soon making way through the breezy water.

“Well, all this seems simple enough, doesn’t it?” said Ingram.

“Yes,” said the girl, with her face full of hope.

“And then, of course, when you are quite comfortable together, and making heaps of money, you can turn round and abuse me, and say I made all the mischief to begin with.”

“Did we do so before when you were very kind to us?” she said in a low voice.

“Oh, but that was different.  To interfere on behalf of two young folks who are in love with each other is dangerous, but to interfere between two people who are married—­that is a certain quarrel.  I wonder what you will say when you are scolding me, Sheila, and bidding me get out of the house?  I have never heard you scold.  Is it Gaelic or English you prefer?”

“I prefer whichever can say the nicest things to my very good friends, and tell them how grateful I am for their kindness to me.”

“Ah, well, we’ll see.”

When they got back to shore it was half-past one.

“You will come and have some luncheon with us?” said Sheila when they had gone up the steps and into the King’s road.

“Will that lady be there?”

“Mrs. Lorraine?  Yes.”

“Then I’ll come some other time.”

“But why not now?” said Sheila.  “It is not necessary that you will see us only to speak about those things we have been talking over?”

“Oh no, not at all.  If you and Mr. Lavender were by yourselves, I should come at once.”

“And are you afraid of Mrs. Lorraine?” said Sheila with a smile.  “She is a very nice lady, indeed:  you have no cause to dislike her.”

“But I don’t want to meet her, Sheila, that is all,” he said; and she knew well, by the precision of his manner, that there was no use trying to persuade him further.

He walked along to the hotel with her, meeting a considerable stream of fashionably-dressed folks on the way; and neither he nor she seemed to remember that his costume—­a blue pilot-jacket, not a little worn and soiled with the salt water, and a beaver hat that had seen a good deal of rough weather in the Highlands—­was a good deal more comfortable than elegant.  He said to her, as he left her at the hotel, “Would you mind telling Lavender I shall drop in at half-past three, and that I expect to see him in the coffee-room?  I sha’n’t keep him five minutes.”