She did so, and Paddy’s good aunt was immensely impressed by the magnificence of the livery and horses of the equipage, that drew up in the dingy Shepherd’s Bush street that December afternoon, outside the doctor’s highly coloured front door. Gwen herself she only saw dimly through the drawing-room curtains, inside the brougham, but even that glimpse so impressed her that for several days the church guilds and things had a rest, in favour of this vision from the far-off fashionable world. Paddy took it all very coolly. She did not even wear her best hat, which greatly scandalised her aunt, but as Paddy explained, it was too heavy on her forehead to travel in and the other would do quite as well. When they reached Euston, Lawrence was waiting, having artfully reached the station first in order to procure not only their tickets, but, by a substantial tip, the first-class compartment for themselves. “What! here already!” cried Gwen. “Ye gods and fishes, is the world coming to an end! Mark it down on your cuff, Lawrence, that you once caught a train with five minutes to spare, instead of leisurely strolling up after it was already on the move, and having to scramble into the guard’s van.” Lawrence took no notice. “Do you prefer the dining-car or dinner baskets?” he asked Paddy. “I don’t need either, thanks. I never feel hungry on a journey.” “Have the baskets, Lawrie,” said Gwen. “Then you are not tied to any time, and you don’t have the bother of going to the restaurant car.” Paddy turned away. “I must get my ticket,” said she. Gwen looked highly amused. Indeed the whole performance was tickling her so, she could hardly refrain from bursting out laughing at the two of them. “I took the liberty of getting your ticket when I got my own,” said Lawrence. “I thought it would save you the trouble.” Paddy murmured a word of thanks, and opened her purse. “How much do I owe you!” she asked. Lawrence caught the gleam in Gwen’s eyes, and could not help an answering gleam. “I’m not quite sure,” he said. “May we leave it for the present?” A little demon possessed Gwen. “Don’t forget the tips for the porters when you’re settling-up,” she said. Paddy looked rather black, and Lawrence had to turn away to buy some papers. “You are a wretch, Gwen,” said Paddy. “You know perfectly well you wouldn’t let anyone pay for you.” “Oh! wouldn’t I!” with emphasis. “I’d just think how jolly lucky I was to be all that much to the good.” Lawrence came back with his arm full of illustrated magazines. “Nothing like plenty of literature to keep one from getting dull,” said Gwen wickedly. “But my! won’t it complicate the settling-up!” A guard came along and told Lawrence they would be starting in two minutes, and so obsequious and marked was his deference that Gwen was again taken with an unaccountable spasm of amusement. “You scoundrel, Lawrence,” she murmured, in an aside, “that cost you nothing short of a sovereign.”