"Don't say it!" Savage cut in. "You stole nothing, if you please; you merely anticipated a reward for a service not yet rendered."
"But . . . Oh, it's kind of you, but don't you see it's impossible?"
"Nothing is impossible except your refusal," said Mrs. Standish. "Do be sensible, my dear, and realise that we--that I intend you shall have this chance. What can you possibly find to object to? The deceit? Surely an innocent deception, practised upon a dear old lady for her own good!"
"Deceit," Mr. Savage propounded very sagely, "is like any other sin, it's only sinful when it is. That's elementary sophistry, but I invented it, and I'm strong for it. Besides, we've got just twenty minutes now to get aboard the Owl--and I've got to beg, borrow, or buy transportation on it, because there wasn't a room left but the two I bought for you and me--and now Adele will have to have one of the rooms--"
"But I've nothing to wear but these things!" "Don't worry about that," Mrs. Standish reassured her. "I've got nine trunks on the way--and you unquestionably fill my things out like another perfect figure."
"But how will you explain? Who am I to be? You can't introduce me as a shop-girl out of work whom you caught stealing your clothes."
"La nuit porte conseil," Mr. Savage announced sagely, and with what was no doubt an excellent accent. "Let Adele sleep on it, and if she doesn't come through in the morning with a good, old-fashioned, all wool, yard-wide lie that will blanket every possible contingency, I don't know my little sister."
"An elder brother, let me tell you, Miss Manvers, is the best possible preceptor in prevarication."
"Elder!" exclaimed the outraged young man. "Well, of all--" He turned appealingly to Sally. "What did I tell you?"