Isla shook her head and rose to her feet with a heavy sigh.
"Life is a most frightful tangle, Malcolm. Sometimes I get so tired of it!"
"We all do, but we've got to make the best of it. You don't want any money, then," he added cheerfully. "It's just as well, because I have hardly a red cent to bless myself with, and I'm counting the days till the Martinmas audit and till Rosmead sends his cheque. When I get that I'll send you along something to Wimereaux."
"I'll write if I need it or want it," she said quickly.
Then, as if in spite of herself, the other matter would out.
"Malcolm, did you meet anybody on the road this morning, either in going or in coming home?"
"I met different folks--Donald Maclure and Long Sandy and Drummond seeking you. Only he didn't come up when I told him that I thought you were about Lochearn. Did you see him?"
"No. I suppose I was in Achree at the time. This was a lady--an extraordinary person in a purple frock. She spoke to me at the Darrach Bridge, and she had stopped Vivien Rosmead, too, and asked her questions about Achree."
She saw Malcolm's colour change and his eyes shift.
"What did she say to you, Isla? I suppose she was one of these stray visitors at the hotel. Miss Macdougall has had some queer specimens this summer."