“Appreciate it! Why, my dear man, I’ve been dying for this dance all the evening.”
“May you be forgiven,” he retorted as they glided away. Paddy was quite as good a dancer as Eileen when she gave herself up to it, and, with such a perfect waltzer as Lawrence, she could not fail to do so, even if she could not be prevailed upon to enjoy it in silence. So, as they glided round, she plied him with a string of eager questions relating to dancing and gayeties in far-off lands.
“You ought to get your father to take you abroad,” he told her presently! “you’d enjoy all the novelty so tremendously.”
“Should I meet a lot of nice, superior, cultured young men like you?”
“Well, hardly up to my standard,” he laughed.
“Then I don’t want to go. When I can talk to you, and dance with you, and gaze upon you here, why cross the sea to other climes?”
“I was thinking more of the countries.”
“And have you ever seen anything in all the world so beautiful as the Mourne Mountains and Carlingford Loch?”
“Yes, many things.”
“I don’t believe it,” stoutly.