“Lawrie,” she exclaimed, “you don’t mean to tell me that you’ve been foolish enough to make love to the goody-goody one!”
“I told you she was not goody-goody,” shortly.
“Well, what is she, then!”
There was a pause.
“She’s like my mother,” he said slowly; “only mother was never as good-looking.”
“Yes, that’s all very well,” quoth Gwen; “but men never want to marry their mothers, even when they worship them. I can just see the whole thing now, and you’ve behaved like an idiot, for all your brains and cleverness. If I had been there to look after you it wouldn’t have happened. A man of your type does not love a girl of her type; he only admires and respects from a distance. If you had married her you wouldn’t have made her happy, so it’s a very good thing for her you’ve come away. Why! your morose, taciturn moods would have broken her heart, and your temper would have been like an icy blast to a delicate hot-house flower. She would never have understood you at all; and being sweet-tempered and unselfish herself would only have left her more hopelessly in the dark, and in the end have irritated you awfully. Oh! I am very wise, Lawrie, about some things. I don’t know how I got it, but it’s there, and possibly father spared me a biggish slice of his brains. Now the other girl, Paddy, would suit you well, but it’s a pity she’s plain. If you were moody and sullen with her I expect she’d throw something at your head, and that’s just about what you need.”
“You are very kind.”
“Glad you think so,” with a little laugh; “but meanwhile, what’s to be done with your friends!”
Lawrence was annoyed with her plain speaking, probably because she was so distinctly in the right.
“I think,” he said coolly, “that I shall return to England and marry Paddy’s sister.”