She had known that this would come. All she had done had only hastened the catastrophe. "That poor old lady," she stammered. "I can't help sympathizing—being a little sorry for her. Isn't she, then, to be considered—after bringing up the girl?"
"You think," he said reflectively, "that she ought to be consulted?"
"Oh, I do!"
"Very well. Then I'll go and have it out with her myself."
"The telegram!" thought Mrs. West, her ears more coraline than ever. "After all," she faltered, "perhaps it would bring about complications. She might resort to—to something legal. Fancy if she sent the police to get back her granddaughter."
Somerled laughed and said nothing. He was not in a mood for argument.
"He won't go," Aline thought. "Thank Heaven, he hates bother."
This was true of Somerled as a rule; but his rules had exceptions.