They went over the points of the yacht, and she became engrossed in it. Then she suddenly made an unaccountable movement for the door. It had dawned on her that she was parleying with the enemy. That the enemy was dangerously alluring. Feeling a little mad with herself, she made her exit ungracefully. A jerky good-by—a feeble explanation of her sudden haste—and she was gone.
Then Lawrence smiled. His extremely wide and varied experience with the opposite sex had made him correspondingly wise. In that moment he saw victory in sight. Far enough away still, perhaps, but yet there. It was becoming a duel of wills. To him it was his strength of will and personality, against her fanaticism. He had chosen a strong word, but fallen short in grasping all it involved. How many a strong will has been worsted even by a weak fanatic! How many a weak will, under the influence of fanaticism has achieved the deeds of the strong!
He knew that day that in some way she was not wholly indifferent to him. He believed she was just a little bit afraid, and that, to him, was the sweetest thought of all.
Paddy hurried home, and wondered why she had been so stupidly weak as to go and see the puppy. She was genuinely vexed, and the incident had the present result of making her absent herself longer than usual, and be more difficult, when at last she came.
Lawrence went to his store of understanding, and said: “She has discovered that she is afraid.”
Then Christmas approached. It had been arranged for Mrs Adair, and Eileen, and Paddy to cross to Omeath for a week, somewhat to the latter’s surprise, for it seemed to her extremely rash for Eileen and her mother to take such a journey at that time of the year. However, her remonstrances were quickly swept aside, and the plans made. Then came a letter from Aunt Jane begging Mrs Adair and Eileen to start a week before Christmas, and if Paddy could not come with them, for her to follow on Christmas eve. To Paddy’s amazement Mrs Adair immediately showed signs of consenting. For one moment it was almost a shock to her—it seemed so strange that they should go off like that without her, when they knew she could not possibly go before Christmas eve. Seeing her mute surprise, her mother hastened to explain that the aunties had a very special reason for wishing it, and then Paddy decided there was something in the air of which she was entirely ignorant. A year ago she would have promptly asked innumerable questions, but somehow a secret in her own life had raised a dim barrier between her and her mother and sister, and she felt, with a vague sense of loneliness, that, perhaps, they likewise had a secret they kept from her. She made no demur about their hurried departure, but kissed them good-by with a bright face, though something in her eyes made Eileen remark as the train steamed out of Euston:
“It’s rather too bad, mother, isn’t it?”
“She will understand all right on Christmas Day,” Mrs Adair answered, and a beautiful colour stole over Eileen’s face.
Beyond doubt, as Paddy had conjectured, there was something in the wind. There were two others, however, who were much pleased by the arrangement, namely, Gwendoline and Lawrence.
“It’s just capital, isn’t it?” Gwen exclaimed. “Now you’ll have to take Paddy over on Christmas eve.”