"That's it—embarrassing."
"But your uncle seems to have no feeling against him, Mr. Kellogg."
"I know; I understand. But that's different. He didn't lose a year's income."
"Of course, we could have the yacht leave you at your own place," went on Rosalind, "if you positively insist on avoiding Mr. Morton. But, as I said, there are only the servants there."
"I wouldn't go there for the world!" he exclaimed hastily. "That is—not now."
"Then, of course, you will stay with us."
"I might go to a hotel; yes, I think I'd better."
"But there is none within several miles of your island. How could you look after things so far away?"
"That's so; I'd forgotten."
His old uneasiness had returned. Rosalind was again in perplexity. She considered Billy Kellogg as not only unaccountable, but colorless.