Mark and Carrissima had not gone far on their way together before it became evident that they were not absolutely in harmony. His object was primarily to purchase a carpet for his dining-room as quickly as might be; while hers was to visit as many shops as possible and, in fact, thoroughly to enjoy the afternoon.

"Where shall we go first?" he suggested outside the door of Number 13,
Grandison Square.

"Let me see!" she cried. "Tottenham Court Road will be the best."

So Mark directed the chauffeur accordingly, and, on getting out of the taxi-cab, Carrissima ominously suggested that it should be dismissed. During the somewhat lengthy process which now began, she was not without moments of pleasurable embarrassment. No doubt the various frock-coated salesmen, who patiently displayed their wares, desired to do precisely the correct thing, but there appeared to exist a considerable difference of opinion concerning Carrissima's status.

Some addressed her as "Miss," some as "Madame," but all agreed that she was either recently married to Mark Driver or on the point of becoming his wife. At first he enjoyed entering the huge warehouses by her side, standing by while she (obviously taking command of the expedition) expressed her wish to "see some carpets." He was amused to hear her discuss the nature of carpets in general; also at her manner of resisting every effort of persuasion, and finally walking to the door. When, however, several shops had been fruitlessly visited and enough carpets inspected to furnish a large, modern hotel, Mark began to feel weary.

"This is uncommonly hard work," he suggested. "I vote we have some tea as an entr'acte."

"Oh, very well, if you're tired already," said Carrissima, "we will go to Prince's."

"Can't we find a shop about here?" urged Mark.

"It won't take us half-an-hour in a taxi," she insisted, and a few minutes later they were on their way.

"After we have fortified ourselves," said Mark, "perhaps we shall find it possible to make up our minds."

When they reached the restaurant in Piccadilly, Carrissima admitted that she felt glad to sit down.

"Now, don't you think," suggested Mark, after she had drunk two cups of China tea and sampled the cakes, "we might begin serious business at the next place."

"If you're really sick of it," she answered, "we may as well go back to the beginning, though I wanted to visit one or two places about here."

"O Lord!" exclaimed Mark.

"You see," she replied, "I really made up my mind at once. We haven't seen anything so good for the price as that bronze and black Childema rug at Mabred's."

"Then we have simply wasted the whole afternoon!"

"It isn't very nice of you to say that," cried Carrissima, rising from her chair, with a laugh. They were soon on their way back to the first warehouse they had visited, and the bronze and black carpet having been after some trouble identified, Mark drew a cheque to pay the bill.

On going out to the street again, he was on the point of hailing another taxi-cab, when Carrissima proposed walking at least a part of the way.

"Carrissima," he said, gazing down into her eyes, a few minutes later, "what is the colour?"

"Oh well," she replied, "there are ever so many blended together, you know."

"I thought there must be two," he admitted.

"Of course," she said, "the general effect is bronze and black."

"Blue or grey?" murmured Mark, as she looked up again.

"Have many carpets made you mad?" she demanded. "I don't understand what you are talking about!"

"I was wondering about the colour of your eyes. I can't quite make up my mind about them," he continued. "At one moment they look grey, at another blue."

"Surely," answered Carrissima, quite unwontedly happy, "you have known me long enough to feel no doubt."

"It is possible," said Mark, "that I have known you too long."

"Oh, thank you," she exclaimed. "So custom stales any variety they possess."

"Not at all," he urged. "What I meant was that familiarity, as the copybooks say, may breed a kind of—well, scarcely contempt——"

"Mark," said Carrissima, "the more you say the worse you will make it. I really think you had better be quiet. How long is it," she asked, as they walked towards Weymouth Street on the way to Grandison Square, "since you saw Bridget?"

"Not since the day after my return from Paris," he replied. "I have not been near Golfney Place. Nor," he added, "have I any intention of going. To all intents and purposes, Bridget has dropped out of my life."

"Any one would imagine," said Carrissima, "that she had done something to annoy you."

"Oh dear, no," was the answer. "I am simply indifferent." Before she had time to explain that she had promised to go to Golfney Place the following afternoon, he added, "By the bye, your fears have not been realized so far. I am immensely glad of that."

"Ah, yes," said Carrissima; "after Bridget's curious confidences, I suppose you expected something—something horrid to occur quite soon!"

"We need not rake up the past," cried Mark, who would have preferred to avoid Bridget's name, which indeed had not been mentioned between them during the last few weeks.

"For that matter," she said, "my anxiety is practically a thing of the past."

"Is Colonel Faversham cooling off?"

"Not in the least. It is difficult not to feel rather sorry for him. He goes day after day—but then a fresh act has begun. Jimmy has appeared on the scene."

"Jimmy!" cried Mark in unfeigned surprise.

"He met her at our house some time ago," Carrissima explained. "It was really quite entertaining. Those two seemed to draw together on the instant, as if one were the magnet and the other the needle. Besides, I have the advantage of Sybil's confidences. Poor Sybil! I can assure you she is in the most dreadful state of mind."

"But do you imagine that Jimmy means business?" demanded Mark.

"According to Sybil, he is merely biding his time: waiting until a sufficient number of weeks have passed to enable him to come to the point with something like decency."

"If that's really the case," said Mark, "I can only say I am immensely pleased!"

"So am I," answered Carrissima, with quiet fervour.

"I would have done a great deal, if it had been possible," Mark continued, "to prevent Bridget from marrying Colonel Faversham, if only for your sake; but as to Jimmy, I don't care a rap."

"Neither do I," said Carrissima.

"If he can't take care of himself after all his experiences," Mark insisted, "the Lord knows who can. I consider Jimmy fair game."

They parted at her door, Mark refusing to enter the house, because he had a patient to visit—one of the very few he had taken over from Dr. Harefield. Never had Carrissima spent a more enjoyable or a more thoroughly satisfactory afternoon! It proved an immense consolation to hear that Mark had not seen Bridget, with that one exception, since his return from Paris; whereas his manner of taking the news of Jimmy's entrance on the field could scarcely have been more desirable.

Not only had the afternoon seen the disappearance of her last lingering feeling of jealousy of Bridget Rosser, but it encouraged the growth of sensations which had long been kept back. As a rule, Carrissima enjoyed a serious talk with Mark, but to-day she had been the most delighted by his frivolity. She laughed quietly as she remembered his remarks anent the colour of her eyes, and spent some minutes examining them in her looking-glass.

"You won't forget, Carrissima," said Colonel Faversham at breakfast the next morning. "You won't forget you're going to see Bridget this afternoon. Take a few flowers—roses, if you ask me! She is fond of roses."

She assured her father that she had not forgotten, and eventually set out in excellent spirits; the optimism with which she was disposed to regard the world at large including Miss Rosser. Carrissima made her way to a florist's, and after hovering over various kinds of flowers for ten minutes, at last bought so many pink and yellow roses that she did not like to carry them through the streets. A taxi-cab soon brought her to Golfney Place, and Miller did not keep her long at the street door.

"Is Miss Rosser at home?" she inquired, as she took a firmer grip of the rose stalks, which did not seem to be fastened very securely together.

"Will you walk in, please," said Miller, leading the way up-stairs.

When they reached the first landing, Carrissima was about two yards in the rear. She carried the large bunch of flowers in her left hand as Miller turned the handle and opened the sitting-room door. At the same, moment, she came to a sudden halt, starting so violently that the loosely-fastened roses fell scattering on to the floor.

The sunlight fell into the room, making it much lighter than the landing. Full in the glare, Carrissima was appalled to behold two figures: Mark and Bridget. He, who but yesterday had declared that he had not seen her for some weeks, that he had no wish ever to see her again, was to-day holding her in his arms. Her head was thrown back, her chin invitingly raised; her lips were pressed to his.