“You make me so happy in thinking of that,” she said, with her eyes growing well again.
“And why should he not do so? There is nothing romantic or idyllic about it, but a good, wholesome, plain sort of life, that is likely to make an honest painter of him, and bring both of you some well-earned money. And you might have a boat like this.”
“We are drifting too far in,” said Sheila, suddenly rising. “Shall we go back now?”
“By all means,” he said; and so the small boat was put under canvas again, and was soon making way through the breezy water.
“Well, all this seems simple enough, doesn’t it?” said Ingram.
“Yes,” said the girl, with her face full of hope.
“And then, of course, when you are quite comfortable together, and making heaps of money, you can turn around and abuse me, and say I made all the misery to begin with.”
“Did we do so before when you were very kind to us?” she said in a low voice.
“Oh, but that was different. To interfere on behalf of two young folks who are in love with each other is dangerous, but to interfere between two people who are married—that is a certain quarrel. I wonder what you will say when you are scolding me, Sheila, and bidding me get out of the house? I have never heard you scold. Is it Gaelic or English you prefer?”
“I prefer whichever can say the nicest things to my very good friends, and tell them how grateful I am for their kindness to me.”