A few minutes later there was a knock at her door, and the maid told her a gentleman had called to see her. “A gentleman?” asked Paddy in surprise. “What is his name?” “I’m afraid I didn’t catch it,” the maid answered. “It was a long name.” “Are you sure he asked for me?” “Yes.” “Where is he?” “In the drawing-room. Mr Basil has gone out, and Mrs Adair is in the master’s surgery.” Paddy smoothed her hair and bathed her eyes, feeling very curious, but when she walked into the drawing-room her visitor saw at a glance that she had been crying. “Mr Masterman!” she exclaimed in glad surprise, and Ted came forward eagerly enough. After the first greetings, however, there was a slightly awkward pause. “I only heard about everything last week,” said Ted at last. “My aunt is a very bad correspondent. I need hardly say how her letter shocked me.” Paddy had motioned to him to take a chair, and sat down on the sofa; but Ted, being no less masterful than of old, and quite as certain as to his mind, sat down on the sofa beside her instead. “I can’t tell you just all I feel,” he said, in that quiet, convincing way of his. “I wish I could, but I think you must know it has all been like a personal sorrow.” “You are very good,” Paddy murmured gratefully. She was so glad to see him—he was like the first link from the old home since she parted from Jack at Holyhead. “How did you know I was here!” “I wired to my aunt for your address directly I received the letter. I wanted to call sooner, but was prevented by business. We have been kept late at the works every night for a week. I’m afraid this London arrangement will be very hard on you,” he said, so kindly that Paddy felt the tears coming back. “A little,” she answered, trying to pull herself together, “but it won’t be so bad when I’m used to it.” She tried to meet his eyes, but could not, and instead looked away, blinking hard. “Poor little girl,” said Ted in a very low voice, half to himself, and covered his eyes with his hand a moment, as if there was something in them he felt he must hide from her. She little knew how that pair of strong arms beside her ached to fold her tight, and take her away then and there from this London she so hated. “I wish I could do something,” he said at last. “It’s hard to have to sit still, and feel as I feel, and see no way to help.” “You mustn’t take it like that,” trying to speak brightly. “Mother and Eileen will be here soon, and then it will be much better for me.” “What has become of O’Hara?” he asked. “Will you tell me all about everything?” Paddy was only too glad to have someone who knew all about Omeath and The Ghan House, and she readily described all that had happened since he left. Ted listened quietly, leaning back a little, as once before, that he might the better watch her, with his own strong face in the shadow. “It will be the making of him,” was his comment when she came to Jack’s plans, and Paddy agreed with alacrity.