“Unfortunately he happens to be a younger son, which is a heinous and not easily-overcome offence in her mother’s eyes, and hence the delay.” “What a pity! Is he nice?” “One of the nicest chaps I ever met.” “Oh, I do hope it will come out right in the end.” “There is not much doubt. Gwen has her father on her side, and I think it is chiefly a question of time with the mother. But, for the matter of that, Gwen always gets her own way in the end. Her mother arranged for her to be a countess eighteen months ago, but at the last moment she advised the earl not to propose to her, and sent him flying.” “How splendid of her!” cried Paddy, forgetting her anger for a moment. “And she is going to marry a plain Mr Somebody now?” “Well, he holds a captain’s commission in the Guards, and considerably distinguished himself in South Africa. I’m not sure it wasn’t his V.C. that took Gwen’s fancy first.” “How nice! I do like her so much. I hope she’ll be able to marry him soon and be awfully happy. Do you think I might mention it to her?” “I’m surprised she hasn’t already told you herself. She is not in the least reserved about it, and she is awfully in love with him. She is as good at loving as you are at hating, Paddy,” and suddenly he was looking into her eyes, with an expression she had never seen on his face before, and which stirred her pulses unaccountably. She fidgeted with her hands, compressed her lips, and stared straight before her, feeling in every corner of her being that he was still looking at her with those calm, compelling eyes. “Well!” he asked at last, and his voice was full of that winning quality which had gained him such easy conquests in the past. But it only made Paddy hotly distrustful, and she gripped the front of the hansom and called up every fighting instinct she possessed. “Miss Carew would hate in my place.” She drew a long breath, as if gathering herself together for a special thrust. “Since she loves as strongly as I hate, I am glad it is some one else, and not you, to whom she has given her love.” She was unconsciously sitting rigidly upright, and from his corner, with his compelling eyes still watching her face, that gleam that might have been either love or war again passed through them. “You hit hard,” he said at last; and then, with the slightest inflection of a taunt in his voice, added: “Why don’t you look at me—are you afraid?” Paddy bit her teeth together hard, and her breath came a little fitfully. She was not afraid—that was quite certain; but, on the other hand, she had not quite the calm assurance she usually felt. She would greatly have preferred not to look at him. “Well?” he said again. Paddy took her courage in both hands. “No, I am not afraid,” and she turned her head a moment and looked full and deep into his eyes. Suddenly he gave a low, harsh laugh. “My God!” he muttered. “Patricia the Great!” And then he flung his half-smoked cigarette away and stared into the night.