Miller had been too well trained to betray the slightest astonishment at what he must have seen as distinctly as Carrissima.

"Miss Faversham," he imperturbably announced, and on the instant Mark's arms dropped to his side, and Bridget, after a glance which was overflowing with reproach, turned towards the door.

"Where is Miss Faversham?" she asked in an unusually high voice, wondering that she could see no sign of a visitor.

Miller, glancing aside at the landing, saw Carrissima on her knees by the balusters, engaged in picking up the scattered roses. Her back was towards the room, and she wished that her heart would not beat quite so tumultuously.

"Oh, do let me help you!" suggested Bridget, going to her side, and from that instant Carrissima seemed to have only one object in life. Above all things she wished to lead both Bridget and Mark to believe that she had seen nothing out of the common! Unable at present to grasp the complete significance of the revelation which fortunately had been vouchsafed to her, she perceived, at least, that it implied the utter destruction of her own recent hopes. Nothing could be worse than the betrayal of her disillusionment: because obviously she had been the victim of a rather cruel illusion especially since yesterday. Now her savoir faire became her most valuable asset.

"I think I have picked them all up," she said, rising hastily to her feet, with the roses loose in her hands.

"How sweet of you to come!" answered Bridget. "Mark is here, too! What lovely roses," she continued, leading the way into the sitting-room, as Miller stood on the landing.

"I am sorry they are so untidy," said Carrissima, with every appearance of cheerfulness.

"Are they really for me!" cried Bridget, taking the flowers and placing them on the table.

"What a lovely day," said Carrissima, although it was the worst she had ever known. "Have they sent home the carpet, yet?" she added, as Mark offered his hand with some embarrassment. He was certainly the most awkward of the three; the women far surpassing him in finesse.

"Have you been buying a carpet?" asked Bridget, as she laid the flowers on the table. "How interesting! Do, please, tell me all about it?"

"For one of my rooms in Weymouth Street," answered Mark.

"Have you actually taken rooms?" said Bridget. "Too bad not to tell me!"

Carrissima, now prepared to recognize deception everywhere, found it difficult to look cheerful. She had no doubt that Bridget knew all about the rooms, which Mark began rather eagerly to describe. It was obvious, however, that he was impatient to get away, and Carrissima, raising her eyes abruptly, intercepted a curiously entreating glance from him to Bridget, who at once held out her hand.

"Shall you be at home this evening?" he asked, turning to Carrissima the next moment.

Although she would infinitely have preferred to say "no," to avoid seeing him again, indeed, as long as the world lasted, she felt afraid lest she should awaken a suspicion of her enlightenment. It seemed inevitable that she must continue to meet him in the future as she had done in the past, and, perhaps, the sooner the next encounter took place the better!

"Oh yes, I think so," she answered. "Shall I see you?"

"I—I thought of looking you up after dinner," said Mark, and the moment he had left the room Miller, with his usual inscrutable face, brought in the tea. Not for the world would Carrissima cut short her visit, and for another quarter of an hour or more she sat listening to Bridget's inquiries concerning Mark's new quarters and his plans for the future.

"I had no idea that he had left Duffield's Hotel," she said presently. "Mark is a dreadful truant. He never comes near me now! I suppose," she added, "he is a great friend of Jimmy's?"

"They and Lawrence were at school together at Brighton," replied
Carrissima, and now she thought she might safely say "good-bye."

Bridget seemed unwilling to release her hand, as they stood together on almost the same spot where Carrissima had seen Miss Rosser in Mark's arms! She looked down at her guest furtively, as if she were unable to make up her mind about something. Perhaps, thought Carrissima, she was wondering whether or not it were desirable to do anything further to remove any possible suspicion! Still, Bridget said nothing unusual, and having once more thanked Carrissima for the roses she insisted on going to see her out of the house.

What a joy it was to breathe the uncontaminated air again! Carrissima walked in the direction of Grandison Square with her mind in a tumult. Her god had fallen! She was far too wildly excited to be capable of anything resembling a sane view of the maddening situation! She longed above all things to reach home, to run up-stairs to her own room, to lock the door, to be away from all mankind.

The pressing question was not whether Mark loved Bridget. That had already been answered. What she wished to make up her mind about was the nature of his "love"—much abused word! If he intended to marry Bridget, why not have said so and have done with it? He had the right to please himself.

His secrecy, his deception, surely signified something base! It was inconceivable that he had not seen her for three weeks—in the face of what Carrissima had witnessed half-an-hour ago! Why had Mark gone out of his way to keep his intercourse with Bridget a secret unless there was something to be ashamed of? Why had he pretended to feel satisfied, even pleased, at the news of her intimacy with Jimmy? Why, above everything, had he recently changed his demeanour towards his oldest friend?

Carrissima must be pictured as approaching Number 13, Grandison Square with such thoughts crowding upon her mind, under the influence of the reaction from her necessary self-control in Bridget's presence. Her head seemed to be on fire, and, always apt to be impulsive, she had never in the course of her vast experience of twenty-two years been so completely carried away as now.

She experienced a deep pang of disappointment on seeing Sybil talking to Knight on the doorstep.

"Oh, I am so very glad not to have missed you!" cried the for once unwelcome visitor. "How extremely fortunate you were not a minute later, because I was just going home."

As a matter of course, without waiting for an invitation, Sybil stepped into the hall and accompanied Carrissima up-stairs.

"My dear," she exclaimed, as the butler shut the drawing-room door, "whatever is the matter? You look as if you had seen something dreadful!"

"What nonsense," said Carrissima. "What can I have seen?"

"I really can't imagine," answered Sybil, with a sigh. "I suppose I feel so terribly worried myself that I fancy everybody else has something to bother about. Still, you certainly do look as I have never seen you before."

"The sun is quite hot," murmured Carrissima, sitting down by one of the windows.

"Although I always feel it I couldn't stay indoors," said Sybil. "Jimmy is more and more enthusiastic every day. He won't hear a word of advice! I have begged and implored him to give Miss Rosser up, but he insists that he is only going to wait until the end of this week. To think of Jimmy's throwing himself away!"

"Oh," cried Carrissima, rising impetuously to her feet, "you need not feel in the least alarmed!"

"But, my dear, how can I help it?" said Sybil. "I never close my eyes until past one o'clock, and when I wake it is impossible to get to sleep again."

"Well, you may rest in peace for the future," answered Carrissima, throwing out her arms excitedly. "Sybil, we have both been making the most dreadful idiots of ourselves!"

"You forget," suggested Sybil, with a perplexed expression, "that Jimmy has actually told me he means to marry the woman!"

"It takes two to make a marriage," said Carrissima.

"You can't seriously imagine that Miss Rosser would refuse him!" cried
Sybil.

"It isn't a question of imagination," retorted Carrissima, walking restlessly about the room. "There are the stubborn facts. I have just come from Golfney Place!"

"Surely she didn't tell you——"

"There was no need for words," said Carrissima. "I can't disbelieve the evidence of my own eyes, however incredible it may appear."

"Carrissima!" exclaimed Sybil, "you are making me so painfully curious.
Do, please, tell me what you saw."

"I saw Mark holding Bridget in his arms!"

"My dear Carrissima!"

"I saw him kissing her—oh, how disgusting it is!" said Carrissima, with a shudder.

"How shockingly embarrassed you must all have felt," suggested Sybil.

"Oh dear, no," was the answer. "Neither of them had the slightest idea they were seen. We all behaved beautifully—beautifully."

"Well, I must say this is the best news I have heard for a long time," said Sybil, looking wonderfully relieved.

"The—the best news!" returned Carrissima, pressing her hands to her bosom.

"Of course, if she is going to marry Mark——"

"I don't believe she is!" said Carrissima.

"But, my dear, if you actually saw them!"

"I don't believe it," was the answer. "If he means to marry her what is the object of all this secrecy? Mark told me only yesterday that he had not seen her for weeks. I shall never know whom to believe again as long as I live. While he pretended Bridget was nothing to him, this—this hateful business has been going on in the background. I have been afraid she would marry my father; you have dreaded that she would marry Jimmy, and yet this afternoon I actually saw—oh, it is abominable. There is only one explanation. There must have been some—some understanding between them from the first."

"I always told Jimmy she might not be respectable," said Sybil.

Hearing that on another's lips, the slightest suggestion of which already Carrissima regretted should have passed her own, cooler judgment began to return. In her wrath she had felt prepared to think anything that was vile of both Mark and Bridget; but only for the moment. Already she repented that she had opened her heart to Sybil.

"Oh, I don't want to go too far," she exclaimed. "Of course there must be some explanation! You quite understand, Sybil! You are not to repeat a single word which I have said to any one."

"My dear, I ought to tell Jimmy before it's too late. I am sure only one conclusion is possible.

"Jimmy ought to be able to look after himself," urged Carrissima.

"Ah, there are very few men who can do that where a pretty woman is concerned," said Sybil.

"Anyhow," returned Carrissima, "I shall not let you go until you have given me your solemn promise. You are not to breathe a word—not a syllable."

"Of course if you insist——"

"I do," said Carrissima. "I was idiotic to speak about the odious thing. You promise you will never repeat a word to any living being!"

"Very well, my dear," was the docile answer, and then Carrissima breathed more freely.