"Has Colonel Faversham returned?" asked Carrissima when Knight opened the door.

"The colonel is in the smoking-room," was the answer, and she went there at once. He was leaning back in an easy-chair, with his feet on the fender, a cigar between his lips, and an unusually benignant expression on his face.

"Well, Carrissima," he inquired amicably, "where have you sprung from?"

"I went to Charteris Street," she returned. "What have you been doing since eleven?"

"What have I been doing?" said Colonel Faversham, rubbing his palms violently together. "Well, now, to tell you the truth, I've been out on the spree! Such a glorious day! I couldn't resist the temptation. A man at the club—I don't think you know him—Comberbatch—asked me to share a taxi and run down to Richmond to lunch. Delightful in the park. And the view from the Terrace! It made me long to go on the river again."

"Why—why didn't you?" Carrissima faltered.

"Come, come, what are you dreaming of?" said Colonel Faversham, with one of his boisterous laughs. "Picture my rowing in these clothes: a frock coat!"

"Oh well," she returned, "I scarcely imagined you would row yourself."

"Not row myself!" he exclaimed. "Why shouldn't I, in the name of goodness? Let me tell you I can pull a good oar still. If only I had had my flannels! You seem to think I'm fit for nothing."

Colonel Faversham astonished Carrissima by rising from his chair and taking off his coat. Removing the links from his shirt-cuff, he solemnly turned back the sleeve, then clenching his fist, slowly raised his forearm, looking the while so red in the face that she grew quite alarmed.

"Feel that!" he said.

"I will take your word for it——"

"Kindly do as I ask you," he insisted, with his arm still bent. "I can't stand like this all day."

Carrissima accordingly felt his biceps with her thumb and forefinger.

"As hard as wood," she said.

"Ah!" he answered, with a smile of relief and satisfaction, as he turned down his shirtsleeve again; "I thought that would astonish you. Not row myself!"

He was obviously in the highest spirits, and indeed he was still under the influence of the intoxicating pleasures of the earlier part of the day. Not that this had passed without some drawbacks. The present which he had bought at Donaldson's had been the cause of considerable cogitation. He was hampered by the fear that Bridget might regard what he would like to bestow upon her as too significant, and in the end had selected a handsome and costly crocodile-hide dressing-bag. It would prove suitable for her honeymoon, and it was with not a little regret that he felt bound to order the initials "B. R." to be engraved on the gold stoppers of the bottles, instead of "B. F." The alteration could, however, no doubt be made in due season.

Not wishing to open Carrissima's eyes unnecessarily soon, Colonel
Faversham gave instructions for the bag to be sent to Number 5, Golfney
Place, before half-past ten on Wednesday morning, and he felt deeply
disappointed when Bridget gently but firmly refused to accept it.

Incongruously enough, she was persuaded nevertheless to accompany him to Richmond, and the drive at close quarters in the taxi-cab, the tÊte-À-tÊte meal, the bottle of champagne which Bridget scarcely tasted, had, collectively and separately, inflamed Colonel Faversham to the sticking-point. When they reached Golfney Place at half-past five, another disappointment lay in store for him, inasmuch as she refused to allow him to enter the house—she felt too tired after the drive! He could come to-morrow, and, meantime, he might send for the dressing-bag.

She could be so tantalizing now and then, that it was easy to believe she was scoffing at him. During the day she had more than once dragged Mark's name into the conversation, and even Carrissima did not feel more curious respecting their precise relationship than her father.

Notwithstanding his anxiety concerning the critic on his hearth, and the more exacerbating one in Charteris Street, Colonel Faversham had reached the end of his tether. This delightful girl, with her charming ingenuousness, her high spirits, might actually become his wife in the course of a few months.

A few months! She might be prevailed upon to marry him within the next few weeks. What cause could there possibly be for delay? Surely he was entitled to please himself! Absurd to imagine that a man of his age must regulate his life to please a slip of a girl like Carrissima, or a solemn young puritan like Lawrence!

When Colonel Faversham arrived at Golfney Place on Thursday morning, Bridget was wearing a new frock; quite light, almost white, in fact, and setting off her slender figure to the most admirable advantage. How many new frocks he had seen her wearing, Colonel Faversham found it difficult to count. The crocodile-hide dressing-bag stood ominously on the table, and, by way of a greeting, she reminded him that he had been asked to send for it.

"Confound the bag!" he retorted. "If you won't keep the thing, pitch it in the dusthole. Bridget," he continued, standing close by her side, "I want you to accept all I have in the world and myself into the bargain. I am not going to blow my own trumpet. Thank goodness I was never that sort of man! I wish I were a boy just because you're a girl, but if you'll take me as I am, you'll make me the happiest man in the world, and I'll do my best to see you never regret it."

"I shan't pretend that you've taken me entirely by surprise," said
Bridget.

"Surprise!" exclaimed Colonel Faversham. "No one could have shown much more plainly what he wanted. There's not much shilly-shally about me. For that matter, I made up my mind long ago——"

"Oh, but you really haven't known me very long," she suggested. "It can't be more than a month since Mark went to Paris."

"I wish," said the colonel, "he had gone to Hades!"

"I know you are horridly jealous," she continued, "because you always change the subject when I mention his name. I like Mark Driver immensely!"

"Anyhow, I want to hear you say you like me better," said Colonel
Faversham.

She stood looking at him critically—and very tantalizingly—with her head slightly on one side; and while he devoured her with his eyes, Bridget slowly took a chair.

"But why should you try to make me say what isn't true?" she demanded.

"I hope it would be," urged Colonel Faversham.

"I am not at all certain," she said quietly. "It's a vastly important question. It requires time for consideration."

"How long, for goodness' sake?"

"I really couldn't possibly tell you offhand. I shouldn't care to bind myself."

"I am desperately impatient to bind you, though," answered Colonel Faversham. "I would see to it we had a good time. There's no wish of yours that shouldn't be gratified—in reason, you know."

"Haven't you discovered by this time how unreasonable I am?" she asked.

"Bridget, come now, be a good girl!" he murmured.

"That shows how little you know me," she returned, "because I'm not in the least good."

"Well, well, call yourself what you please! Only have a little love for me, and I don't care what the devil you are!" exclaimed Colonel Faversham, and at that moment he meant precisely what he said.

"I am not certain I have," she cried, with a laugh. "You see that whatever I may be I am candid. I don't think I have a particle of what I suppose you mean by 'love' for any living being. Perhaps there's something wanting in my constitution. I don't believe I shall ever be capable of 'loving' anybody as long as I live."

"Good gracious," was the answer, "don't tantalize me. Why do you keep me on tenterhooks? Say you will marry me, and we'll leave everything else."

"I can't say so this morning," she insisted. "I can say that I won't if you like."

"For heaven's sake, don't do that!" Colonel Faversham quite humbly entreated.

"Then please don't bother me for an answer," she said, and, with all her lightness, he realized that she had a will of her own. His only consolation was that, if her word could be accepted, she had not given her heart to Mark or any one else. Whether she was to be believed or not, however, his infatuation remained unaffected. He had reached a condition in which he longed for possession upon any terms whatsoever, but since it was obvious that she did not intend to pledge herself this morning, there was no help for it! He must be as little discontented as possible to leave the question open for the present.

"Well, then," he suggested, "if I manage to bottle up my feelings for a week or so, will you try to think favourably of me in the meantime?"

"Why, yes, of course I will," she answered. "But it must be distinctly understood. I am as free as the wind! I have not promised anything."

Beyond this she could not be prevailed upon to go, but before he left Golfney Place, she gratified him by consenting to keep the dressing-bag. She thanked him, indeed, very charmingly; so that, notwithstanding his rebuff, Colonel Faversham left the house disappointed, it is true, but even more her slave than ever.