Cattanach looked the surprise he felt. His disapproval, he decided, he had better keep to himself.
"I am honoured by this conference, Miss Mackinnon, and since you have told me so much I am encouraged to ask more. What sort of employment, may I ask, does Miss Mackinnon of Achree think she will find in London?"
Her eyes flashed a little mournfully.
"I belong to the great sad army of the partially equipped, Mr. Cattanach, but I know my limitations and I shall keep within them. Also I shall be able to earn my daily bread. I have come to you, because,--for reasons which I don't think I could really explain, even if I tried--I feel that I should like at least one responsible person to know where I am and precisely what I am doing. But I require that, unless circumstances arise which render it absolutely necessary that it should be known, you will not give that information to anybody in Glenogle or at Balquhidder," she added as an after-thought.
"You forget. I have no communication with Glenogle or Balquhidder now except through your brother. He is not likely to ask me your whereabouts. Will you give me your address?"
"I'll send it," she said diplomatically. "I want to get clean away from everything for a while, Mr. Cattanach, for really I don't quite know where I am standing. I even feel as if I were some strange, new sort of person with whom I have to get freshly acquainted. Can you understand that?"
"I understand that life has been very hard for you, my dear," he said involuntarily. "And I have often prayed that your day of brightness would come."
"It won't come," she said with a little nod. "I'm one of those predestined to gloom. Tell me, Mr. Cattanach, before I go," she added with a little touch of wistful tenderness that wholly became her, "how do you think it is with my brother now? You have seen him several times. Is--is he doing well? You wonder perhaps that I should ask. But my judgment, where he is concerned, has become entirely distorted. That is one of the reasons why I want to get away, because I am seeing nothing clearly, fairly, or justly, especially in relation to him."
"I think he means well. But he is not fitted for the life of a country laird. He would have made a better soldier. It is a thousand pities that he had to leave the Army."
"It is. Don't you think," she added after a moment's hesitation, "don't you think it a very wonderful thing that the true story of his leaving the Army has never got about?"