“Come along,” she exclaimed, “I’m delighted to see you. I know you and Paddy will get on first-rate.”
Gwen held out her hand to Paddy and looked frankly into her face, as much as to say, “I know you hate me, but I mean to change all that,” and Paddy, slightly disarmed, shook hands and said, “How do you do,” with a little less starchiness.
For ten minutes, results hung in the balance. Gwen was at her best; she was indeed most charming; but Paddy was obstinate, not to say somewhat pig-headed, and when she was in that mood, to quote Basil, you might almost as well try to persuade a lamp-post to walk across the road.
But Basil was not Gwen, and if he had tried for a life-time, he could not have cultivated such powers of persuasion as hers and in this she meant to win. Paddy would have needed to be made of adamant to withstand her. In the end, of course, she gave in, and by the time the stately butler condescended to serve them with tea, a merrier trio it would have been difficult to find.
Lawrence heard their gay laughter down in the hall, as he hung up his hat, and smiled a little grimly.
“Gwen’s won,” he said to himself. “I wonder what sort of a reception I shall get?”
He walked slowly upstairs, and as slowly entered the drawing-room. Paddy was entertaining the other two with some of her dispensing adventures and for a moment he remained unnoticed. Paddy saw him first.
“I was reaching to a high shelf—” she was saying, and then she stopped short suddenly, with her eyes on the door.
The other two looked round quickly, as Lawrence advanced, saying, “Yes, you were reaching to a high shelf, and—”
“Nothing,” said Paddy, “or at least nothing that would interest you.”