"That is unkind. It is a wonderful thing when a girl of position, and hedged in as I have been, finds that she is loved for herself alone and not for her houses and lands, and her almost royal debts."
"Verra flattering," said Traquair, "na doot. And what answer will you give?"
"Traquair," she said, "I'm not a profane girl; but I'm hanged if I know."
"He is a very wealthy man, and I have no doubt a very kind and honest man."
"He is a very cheeky man," smiled Miss McTavish.
"No doubt—no doubt," said Traquair; "and it would leave you to the honest enjoyment of your houses and lands, which otherwise you propose to hand over to him. Still, it is well for a Scot to be cautious."
"For a Scotch Scot," said Miss McTavish. "I should be an American Scot if I married him. He tells me they are noted for their daring."
While they were thus animatedly conversing, word came that Mr. McTavish had called in the hope of seeing Miss MacNish.
"There," said Miss McTavish, "you see! Go down to him, Traquair, and be pleasant, until I come. Then vanish."
Traquair found McTavish smoking a thick London cigarette upon the steps of the side entrance, and gazing happily into a little garden of dark yew and vivid scarlet geraniums with daring edgings of brightest blue lobelia.