“I shouldn’t wonder if you haven’t got a future, Paddy,” he remarked. “There’s something about you that has the ring of achievement—only there’s not much room here,” signifying the surrounding neighbourhood. “Quite room enough,” picking up a Mauser pistol and examining it with the eye of a connoisseur. “Can’t I ride straight, and shoot straight, and sail anything with a rag and a mast—that’s achievement enough for me. What more do you want?” He drew a bow at a venture, out of idle curiosity. “I wonder where the opposite sex will come in? Don’t you want to have adoring males at your feet by and by!—most women do.” She looked frankly into his eyes with a gay laugh. “Not me! I haven’t time. I’ll leave that for Eileen. Of course, if your lordship—!” with a sudden irresistible twinkle. He could not help laughing, and watched her with growing interest as she wandered on from one curio to another, until she came to his writing table. Here she came to a sudden standstill, and a little involuntary exclamation escaped her. Lawrence looked past her quickly, to find she was gazing with wide eyes, and a strangely mingled expression, at the beautiful full-length portrait of Gwendoline Carew, noticeably in the position of honour on his table. CHAPTER XV Dread and Wrath. “Who is she?” she asked at last, with her customary out-spokenness. “Do you mean the big portrait?” carelessly. “Yes.” “Miss Gwendoline Grant-Carew.” Paddy gazed at the portrait silently for another space, and then remarked: “She is very beautiful.” “Yes, very,” dryly. Again Paddy was silent. If she had tried she could not have analysed her feelings just then. She was only conscious that in some way the photograph was a shock to her. Though she had scarcely confessed it to herself, she undoubtedly shared the opinion of the neighbourhood, that Lawrence was paying Eileen such marked attention with a view to marriage, and since the incident of the clasped hands she had grown to think of him as a prospective brother-in-law. Unaccountable divination told her the rest. “Why do you look at her like that?” asked Lawrence at last. “Don’t you like her?” “No,” said Paddy slowly, “I hate her.” “But how can you,” he laughed, “when you don’t even know her? As a matter of fact she is just your sort. Up to any fun, full of life, and not the least bit conceited, though half Calcutta is at her feet.” “Calcutta,” echoed Paddy a little sharply. “Yes, why not?” Again there was a moment’s silence. “Doreen told me you were going to India,” she said at last. “Is it true?” “Yes.” He picked up a paper knife and toyed with it. Something in Paddy’s honest face made him avoid her gaze. “When are you going?” she asked. “In about three weeks.” She gulped down an exclamation. “For long?” “What a list of questions!” with light sarcasm; “it feels like an examination paper.” But Paddy would not be put off. She fidgeted restlessly with a letter weight, and then asked again: