He reviewed what had transpired between them since, and; his thoughts were gloomy enough. Most emphatically the defiance and the disdain were still the dominant notes she was at no further pains now, than then, to hide her contempt. He knew that since the night of Gwen’s dance she had resorted to strategy to avoid him. Since his mother and Kathleen returned home there had been much sight-seeing and entertaining, and Paddy was continually requisitioned. Yet she contrived to turn up on the occasions when he had another engagement, and remain absent when he made a victim of himself for the express purpose of seeing her. Even at a second dance she had outwitted him.
“Lawrence will take you home,” Doreen had said in his presence, and Paddy had politely replied: “Thank you.” Yet when he sought her neat the end of the evening, it was to find she had already gone—undoubtedly missing two dances rather than accept his escort.
The third time, however, he was one too many for her. He watched from a safe vantage ground until he saw her give a quiet glance round, and then surreptitiously slip away. Instantly he accosted Doreen.
“It is raining in torrents,” he told her, “and I don’t want the horses to wait to-night. I shall go home now, and send a taxi for you and Kathleen at one o’clock.”
Doreen thought it a little odd, but was immediately claimed by a partner, and Lawrence gave her no time to reply.
When Paddy slipped cautiously out of the cloak-room and made for the door, she stopped short before a coated figure unmistakably waiting for her, and said: “Oh!”
“I’m going to take you home in the carriage,” said Lawrence, with a resolution against which she felt powerless. “I’ve arranged with the others to be fetched in a taxi.”
Paddy flashed defiance at him, bit her teeth together, and descended the steps with the air of an outraged princess. Lawrence reflected that it was a long way to Shepherd’s Bush, and smiled grimly to himself—partly at the feelings of his coachman, and partly at the success of his ruse.
So they bowled along in a comfortable brougham, though Paddy disdained the padded cushions, and sat bolt upright like a terrier on guard. Lawrence sat back in his corner and watched her, feeling for the moment almost content. It was something, at least, to have captured her for a few minutes and have her all to himself. Her skirts brushed against his foot, her flowers exhaled a delicate perfume in the carriage, her cloak, falling open, slipped back a little on to his knee. Lawrence had reached the stage when a man is thankful for very small mercies, and he was vaguely thankful for these.
“Am I permitted to express an old friend’s congratulations on your appearance?” he asked presently, in a voice that held no mockery.