“You ought to have been here a minute ago,” she said. “There was such an amusing discussion between two girls about which should pay. I was immensely taken with one of them—she wasn’t exactly pretty, but she looked so jolly, and she just carried everything before her in a most entertaining fashion. She’s just the sort of girl I’d fall in love with if I were a man. Did you notice her? She was paying at the desk while you hunted up these cakes.”
“I did. It was Paddy Adair.”
“Paddy Adair!” in tones of amazement. “Was that really Paddy Adair, Lawrence?”
“It was.”
“Goodness!” and Gwen grew quite contemptuous. “Why you said she was plain and dowdy!”
Lawrence calmly continued his tea.
“So she was the last time I saw her.”
“Well, she isn’t now, anyway. I call her quite striking, and she was distinctly well dressed.” There was a pause, then she added: “Perhaps she’s married, and got a man to choose her things for her. That’s one thing husbands are sometimes good for; and some of them know a fair amount about hair-dressing too.”
“No, she’s not married,” said Lawrence. “Doreen was talking about them only the other day. They’re living in Shepherd’s Bush.”
“Shepherd’s Bush!” echoed Gwendoline. “How awful, after their country home. But how London has smartened her up, hasn’t it?”