"I don't take it," said Isla, seeing a probable respite for an hour or so, during which she might either escape or rearrange her plans. "I have a few sandwiches in my dressing-bag and, later, I shall get a cup of tea. I never eat much when I am travelling."
"A mistake, my dear. Take it from me that has travelled a lot both by land and sea. If you don't eat you get so low that you can't bear yourself. Do say two for luncheon when the waiter comes along; then we'll go in together."
Isla shook her head.
"No, thank you."
The attendant came at the moment to inform them that the first luncheon would be served in about twenty minutes. Isla crept back again to her corner under the sympathetic scrutiny of her companion.
"What a colour you have, to be sure! Sorry you don't feel up to luncheon," she said cheerfully. "It's all use. When you've knocked about as much as I have you'll get more experiences. I'm up to all travelling dodges."
Isla had no doubt of it. She opened out another paper and let her eyes fall languidly on it, praying fervidly for the quick passage of the next twenty minutes. At another time she would have most thoroughly enjoyed such a travelling-companion and would undoubtedly have elicited her whole family history. But now her whole desire and aim was to stem the avalanche.
"Queer--wasn't it?--that we should meet like this," pursued her wholly unconscious tormentor. "I took to you that day when I met you on the road far more than to that other one you was with when you came back. She's a haughty piece, if you like. They told me at the hotel at Strathyre that it's expected she'll maybe be Lady of Achree some day, but we don't think!"
"Nobody pays any attention to the gossip of the Glen," said Isla, the desperate look stealing to her face again.
"Well, you may take it from me that that won't come orf," said Mrs. Bisley with cheerful emphasis, at the same time picking up a paper and beginning a languid inspection of the pictures it contained.