of him sometimes.
There were things he could do, there were thoughts that came to him as
easily as homing birds, which were with her only a pretence: but she
pretended eagerly, sincerely, even with prayer. She really yearned to be
at heart all that she tried to make Somerled and other people believe
her to be. And if she tried hard to be genuine all through, surely in
time----

"What I want you to tell me is," Basil was going on, "are you in l--how
much do you really care about this man?"

"'This man?'" she repeated. "How serious that sounds; like 'Do you take
this man for better, for worse?' Well, I confess that I _should_, if he
asked me."

"Then you must be in love," her brother concluded. "Because you don't
need his money. We make as many thousands as we used to make hundreds;
and it's all yours, really, or ought to be."

She was ashamed of not contradicting him, yet she did not contradict.
She could not bear to put in words what in her heart she knew to be the
truth: that their success was due to Basil, the dreamer of dreams; that
her little smartnesses and pretty trivialities could never have carried
them to the place where they now stood together. The worst part of her
wanted Basil to think, wanted every one to think, that she was the
important partner, that she was actually _all_ in the partnership. And
it was too miserably easy to produce this impression. Basil was so
unassuming, thought so poorly of himself, realized so little how she
leaned upon him in their work, admired her so loyally!

"Ian Somerled is more of a man than any other man I ever met," she said.
"I like him for his strength and for his indifference. Everything about
him appeals to me--even his money; for making it in the way he did was
one expression of his power. Just because they say he'll never marry, I
want----"

"I can understand how a woman may feel about him," Basil said gently,
when she suddenly broke off.

"I thought I was perfectly happy the day he asked us to tour Scotland
with him in his car; and when he promised to spend a few days with us
here, after he'd got through his business in London," Aline went on, "it
was like _honey_ to hear him say that he didn't want to come if any one
else was to be here. He'd enjoy it only with you and me alone. But ever
since I saw him I've been worrying until I'm quite wretched."

"Worrying about what?"

"Whether he _suspects_ anything."

"Why, what is there to suspect?"

"Then _you