“I am not universally hated; you see. Castor and Pollux put up with me, in spite of my manifest shortcomings.” “You feed them,” she retorted. “All animals love the hand that gives them food.” “Ah! I see we are to part enemies!” “Better an honest enemy than a false friend,” icily. “Yet I’m rather sorry,” he went on. “I like you much too well to want to look upon you as my enemy.” “I do not feel as flattered as you may suppose. It seems to me there is little enough to gain in being your friend.” “Very likely,” and he shrugged his shoulders with a sudden return of his old cynicism. “This seems likely to prove a striking illustration of my pet theory that it is wisest not to care. I had, forgotten it for the moment.” The horses were harnessed and the man stood at their heads ready to lead them round to the door. “Go on,” said Lawrence, “I will follow.” He turned again to Paddy. “You have far more occasion to be glad than angry,” he said, “but it is hardly likely you will see it yet. By and by—say in five years’ time—you will understand. At present you do not know your world.” “Nothing will change my estimate of you,” she answered cuttingly. “I wish Miss Gwendoline, what’s-her-name—Carew, joy of her bargain.” “Now we are descending to personalities,” with a fine sneer, “so perhaps I had better depart.” “A most excellent notion, O Theophilus!” tossing her small head. A gleam of admiration came unbidden to his eyes. “You’re good stuff, Paddy,” he said, almost under his breath. “I like your fieryness uncommon well.” “That is how I like your absence,” came quick as lightning. “Well, good-by,” and he held out his hand. She put hers behind her, with unmistakable meaning. He shrugged his shoulders expressively, and turned away. When he had gone a few paces, he looked back. She was still standing where he had left her. A sudden instinct brought him again to her side. “Don’t be a little fool, Paddy! Come, be friends. I may never come back.” “It is not of the smallest consequence to me whether you do or not.” She still stood with her hands behind her, and her eyes never once wavered before his. He could not choose but admire her dauntless attitude, now she had declared war. He hesitated a moment, unwilling to show himself beaten. Then he gave a little laugh. “I declare—I believe you’ve given me an object in life. It will be quite entertaining, some day, to break down your defences.” He looked into her face. “Do you hear, Patricia, when I come back, I shall storm the fortress, and make you cry Peace yet. Will you have a bet on it?” “No,” unbendingly, “I do not care to bet with you.” She hesitated a second, and then finished with unflinching gaze: “I despise you.” CHAPTER XVII Brooding Clouds. There was a shadow upon the Parsonage. The two little ladies looked at each other with vague dismay, and asked wonderingly, “What is this that has come upon us?”