“Yes, that’s all very well,” quoth Gwen; “but men never want to marry their mothers, even when they worship them. I can just see the whole thing now, and you’ve behaved like an idiot, for all your brains and cleverness. If I had been there to look after you it wouldn’t have happened. A man of your type does not _love_ a girl of her type; he only admires and respects from a distance. If you had married her you wouldn’t have made her happy, so it’s a very good thing for her you’ve come away. Why! your morose, taciturn moods would have broken her heart, and your temper would have been like an icy blast to a delicate hot-house flower. She would never have understood you at all; and being sweet-tempered and unselfish herself would only have left her more hopelessly in the dark, and in the end have irritated you awfully. Oh! I am very wise, Lawrie, about some things. I don’t know how I got it, but it’s there, and possibly father spared me a biggish slice of his brains. Now the other girl, Paddy, would suit you well, but it’s a pity she’s plain. If you were moody and sullen with her I expect she’d throw something at your head, and that’s just about what you need.” “You are very kind.” “Glad you think so,” with a little laugh; “but meanwhile, what’s to be done with your friends!” Lawrence was annoyed with her plain speaking, probably because she was so distinctly in the right. “I think,” he said coolly, “that I shall return to England and marry Paddy’s sister.” Gwen looked into his face, and saw with her usual intuition exactly how matters stood. “Very well,” she said airily, getting up. “Go and make the funeral pile of your own happiness and hers as well. I’m sure I don’t care, and I’ve got quite as much on my hands out here just now as I can well attend to, so I’ll be quite relieved to leave you to look after your own affairs entirely. But when you’ve managed to fit a square block into a round hole by becoming a pattern, stay-at-home country squire, just let me know, as by that time I shall be wanting to see something unique. Good-by! I have an important engagement,” and without giving him time to offer his escort she was off. Lawrence remained where he was, and thought of Eileen, drawing back into deep shadow, and staring moodily down at the gay throng below him. After a long time, getting no nearer to a decision, he went below again and joined a small coterie of men about the Hon. Jack Carew, discussing the probability of disturbances on the Afghan frontier in the spring. A few days later, while still in a state of indecision, he made the discovery that Gwen was in a fix. He came upon her unexpectedly in the morning-room, and caught her with tears in her eyes before she had time to brush them away. She did so angrily enough directly he entered, but by that time he had seen them. Lawrence looked at her a moment, and then crossed and carefully closed the door and came back again. “What’s the matter?” he asked, as if he meant to be told.