14
The peculiar Mr. O’Hannigan. 20 March 1971.
Emilee didn’t wait for reception to buzz her but stood waiting, long before four, to the side of the stairs, as casual as possible, at the front door of her college. She fumed all over, recalling her most recent visit with Douglas and Caroline. They had mocked her. She has no feelings for the pompous Irishman. He was firing-squad-for-unsuitable-suitors fodder. She was only curious.
If she hadn’t done her research in the library the past week, she would not have been the wiser about all things Irish. She snorted. And she, in her naivety, believed all this time that Douglas knew the difference between the English and the Irish. As if anyone knew the difference—least of all an Englishman to the likes of Mr. Harding. She wandered away from the
