“I know you have, and on the whole they do you credit, but it seems to me there’s something on foot now, that you’re just not quite so dead certain sure about as usual.” Lawrence was silent. “Once before it was the same,” said Gwen. “Don’t you remember when a certain father died, and you were in doubt? Well, didn’t Gwen manage you then and help to keep you from running off the track!” “I am not in doubt now,” he answered. “No, but I strongly suspect that you are in love.” He only looked steadily before him and made no sign. “If it’s Paddy,” said candid Gwen, “I’ll just move heaven and earth to help you. If it isn’t you can ‘gang yer ain gait.’” She waited, and presently Lawrence said quietly: “It is Paddy.” Whereupon Gwen forgot she was a young personage of importance mentioned often in the fashionable papers, and danced a little jig all round the room. “Lovely!” she cried, “just lovely! You must get married before me so that I can be a bridesmaid, Lawrie.” “You are somewhat premature,” dryly. “Paddy has refused to marry me.” Gwen came to a sudden standstill. “Refused,” she repeated, as if she were not quite sure she had heard aright. “Yes, plain, ungarnished, unmistakable refusal.” “Little idiot!” said Gwen, “what’s she dreaming of!” “I don’t know, but she was at considerable pains to impress upon me that even medicine bottles and that beastly dispensary were preferable to Mourne Lodge with me.” Gwen made a curious whistling sound with her lips—again not in the least what one would expect from a young lady mentioned in fashionable papers, and sat down beside Lawrence looking quite subdued. “Well, don’t look so blue,” she said presently. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. What are you going to do?” “I’m going to win.” “That’s right. Never say die. I expect you’ve taken her rather too much by surprise. I’m quite sure when I last saw Paddy, it had never entered her head for a moment that you cared a fig about her except to tease. Give her time to come round a bit. It sounds like playing a salmon, doesn’t it? I’m sure it will be heaps more interesting than if she’d said ‘yes’ right away, and you’ll both care more in the end. That’s what I tell Bob sometimes. I was much too easily won, and I want to go back and begin again, I just dropped right off the tree into his hands like an over-ripe cherry. Disgusting to think of—isn’t it? I ought to have let him mope and pine a bit, and pretended I didn’t care. Only I’d have been so horribly afraid he thought I meant it, and gone off, or something. I guess that sort of thing is all very fine to talk about and in story books, but when it comes to pretending you don’t like a man, when you’re just dying to have him all for your own—why it isn’t human nature. Them’s my sentiments!” Lawrence could not help smiling, but it was poor enough comfort for him, though before they separated Gwen did really cheer him a little by her determined hopefulness and sanguinity.