“You goose,” she laughed. “I suppose you want a _tête-à-tête_. Oh, dear!” with a sigh; “and I’ve got such a lot of special friends here to-night. Never mind, I’ll manage it. I’ll go with you to have refreshments at eleven o’clock, and then we’ll—well, we’ll go and look at the idols and mummies and things,” and she passed gayly on. Later they found their way into a quiet alcove that overlooked the big reception rooms, and Gwen at once plunged into the subject. “Is it anything to do with the little Irish girl?” she asked. “Partly.” “Well, what’s happened.” “Her father is dead.” “Dead!” echoed Gwen, in a shocked voice. “Yes. He died after a few days’ illness, about six weeks ago, of some heart attack.” “Goodness! How sudden it seems. When did you hear?” “The night I told you about them.” “Fancy! And I’ve never given you a chance to speak of it.” Lawrence was silent. “I can see that’s not all,” she said. “No. The money all seems to have gone, and they have to leave their home and go and live in London, and Paddy’s going to be a dispenser.” “What in the name of wonder is a dispenser?” “A person who makes up prescriptions.” “In a chemist’s shop!” opening her eyes wide. “Sometimes; but in this case it would be in a private doctor’s surgery.” “What an extraordinary occupation! What on earth put it into their heads! If I had to earn money I’d go into a big establishment where you did nothing all day long except try on lovely dresses and pat yourself on the back because you knew you looked infinitely better in them than the annoying people who had the money to buy them.” “That wouldn’t suit Paddy. She’d probably end by throwing the dresses at the people’s heads. It’s quite likely that’s what she’ll eventually do with the bottles of medicine.” “Poor Paddy,” said Gwen softly. “Do you know, I don’t hate her a bit now! I’m just awfully sorry.” Lawrence was silent a moment. “It will be terrible for those girls to have to live in London,” he said at last. “What—are they sisters?” she cried. “Do you mean Paddy and the goody-goody girl?” “Yes.” “But you didn’t say they were sisters before.” “Didn’t I?” carelessly. “Well, probably I didn’t think about it.” Gwen watched him thoughtfully. “Do you know,” she said at last, “I think you’ll just have to go home and marry Paddy, and make the mother and the other one a present of their old home.” “Paddy would almost as soon marry the Sultan of Turkey.” Gwen looked at him with a sudden light of understanding. “Lawrie,” she exclaimed, “you don’t mean to tell me that you’ve been foolish enough to make love to the goody-goody one!” “I told you she was not goody-goody,” shortly. “Well, what is she, then!” There was a pause. “She’s like my mother,” he said slowly; “only mother was never as good-looking.”