It flashed through her mind, what a good thing it would be if this Major Doran, who was Irish and rich, would relieve her for life of “her young girl from over the sea.”
Presently everybody in the drawing-room resolved into silence, and tricks; whilst Joseline and her companion strolled through the empty reception-rooms into the little boudoir. Ulick Doran was turning over in his mind how he would approach the subject, when Joseline herself made an opening.
“To think of all the travelling you have done,” she exclaimed, “and the countries you’ve seen, and your never once coming home!”
“But I did return once, just for a couple of days.”
“Yes, but never to stop. Why was that?”
“Surely you need not ask. You know the reason.”
“I—Mr. Ulick?” she exclaimed, thrown off her guard.
“Don’t call me Mr. Ulick.”
“Well, what will I call ye? Oh, of course—Major.”
“I know what I hope you’ll call me,” he interrupted; “but I daresay you won’t.”