It was just when things were in this state, by a most strange coincidence, that Paddy heard news of Lawrence partly through her cousin Basil. Now that they did not five under the same roof, they managed to keep better friends, though Paddy never missed the smallest opportunity of a taunt at Basil’s effeminacy, and Basil still persisted in veiled hints at her general lack of elegance. However, as both were already profiting by the other’s plain speaking, it was very harmless. Paddy, on her part, had become very friendly with another girl student, who, in the matter of appearance, was the exact opposite of herself, and she was beginning to benefit by the friendship. Ethel Matheson was a true Londoner of the modern type, which represents a girl quite as fond of outdoor games as a country girl, but at the same time having the unmistakable cut of London about her clothes. Well-cut tailor-mades, simple, smart hats, hair well dressed, gloves and boots always neat, made Ethel a pleasing picture in any weather and at any time, and before long Paddy began to envy her. After a time she got so far as to mention it, and from that day the change commenced. Ethel took her in hand altogether, and guaranteed that in a few months, if Paddy would give her mind to it seriously, she would turn her out as neat and smart as herself, and only spend a fraction more money. Consequently, when the spring was well advanced, Paddy invested in her first smart “tailor-made,” a very pretty hat, and began to take pains with her hair. The very first time she was out in them, feeling not a little conscious, but on the whole well pleased with herself, she ran into Basil going home on the top of a ’bus. “By Jove!” said Basil. “If it isn’t Paddy!—all in new clothes!” “Well, there’s no occasion to be rude,” retorted Paddy. “Any one would think you were not accustomed to new clothes instead of dreaming and thinking of little else.” Two men, who, unknown to her, were accompanying Basil, began to laugh, and Paddy blushed a fiery red when her cousin, with considerable enjoyment, proceeded to introduce them to her. CHAPTER XXIX A Strange Coincidence. “Let me introduce my friends to you,” he said. “This is Pat O’Connor, of your own proud nationality, known as the lady-killer of Middlesex Hospital, and this is his brother, Captain O’Connor, of Dargai renown, now home on leave from India. Gentlemen,” he added wickedly, “allow me to introduce you to Miss Paddy Adair, the snipe-shooter.”