“Well, I think I did hear Jack say something about it; but I had quite forgotten. When did he come?”
“Only yesterday, but he was in Newry this morning, and bought a picture post-card at the same time that I did.”
“Ump!” expressively. “I loathe picture post-cards. He must be a nincompoop, if he actually buys them.”
“Not at all,” asserted Kitty. “He’s probably going to send them home. He’s not exactly handsome, but he has got the loveliest smile, and such a nice voice.”
“Rubbish!” exclaimed Paddy, whose ill-humour was still not very far-off. “A man with a lovely smile and a sweet voice is always a silly ass. I expect he curls his hair, and wears patent-leather boots, and lavender kid gloves.”
“You’re very cross,” from Kitty in an aggrieved tone; “I thought you’d be pleased to hear there was likely to be some one fresh at the tennis parties, to talk to.”
“So I should be if they were jolly, but I’m sure this man isn’t. He sounds just awful. I loathe him already.”
Kitty was silent for a moment, then she asked suddenly, “Where’s Jack?”
“I don’t know,” with a fine air of indifference. “He was so long getting ready, that I just came across without him. I must go back now, as I’m alone, and if the wind gets up, I mightn’t be able to manage the boat. Say good-by to Mrs Henderson for me—she’s just in the middle of a set,” and without waiting for more, she slipped away unobserved, and hurried down to the water’s edge.
Loosening her boat quickly, she sprang in and pushed off, the light of an adventure glowing in her eyes.