“Well, both if you like. One is just as good for you as the other. But touching this Irish girl, what’s her name, Lawrie?”
“There were two I told you of. Which do you mean?”
“Why, the one who hates, of course. The other doesn’t count, especially if she’s goody-goody.”
“The hater is Paddy Adair.”
“Paddy!” cried Gwen in amusement. “What a name, but I rather like it! I’m beginning to feel quite interested in this Paddy. At first I was furious with her for daring to hate me, but now I rather like her for it. Tell me something about her.”
“There isn’t anything to tell.”
“Of course there is. What does she do all day long, living in that deadly place!”
“Fishes, and shoots, and sails.”
“Oh, does she shoot!” with eagerness.
“She’s the finest shot of her sex that I’ve ever come across, and she can sail a boat as well as any man. She gets capsized into the loch periodically, but thinks nothing of it. Her father is a soldier, and the wilder the things she does, the better he likes it, because then he is half able to persuade himself that she is a boy. I believe the dream of his life was to have a son, but as it is he considers Paddy the next best thing and dotes on her.”