‘And what can he possibly have to do in Ireland?’
‘I should say that you are more likely to furnish the answer to that question than I. If I’m not much mistaken, his letters are forwarded to the same country-house where you first made each other’s acquaintance.’
‘What, Kilgobbin Castle?’
‘Yes, it is something Castle, and I think the name you mentioned.’
‘And this only puzzles me the more,’ added Atlee, pondering. ‘His first visit there, at the time I met him, was a mere accident of travel—a tourist’s curiosity to see an old castle supposed to have some historic associations.’
‘Were there not some other attractions in the spot?’ interrupted she, smiling.
‘Yes, there was a genial old Irish squire, who did the honours very handsomely, if a little rudely, and there were two daughters, or a daughter and a niece, I’m not very clear which, who sang Irish melodies and talked rebellion to match very amusingly.’
‘Were they pretty?’
‘Well, perhaps courtesy would say “pretty,” but a keener criticism would dwell on certain awkwardnesses of manner—Walpole called them Irishries.’
‘Indeed!’