d," suggested Mark, "telling me how much that was?"

"I don't mind telling you anything," she said. "I want you to know all
about me. I love to tell you. It was invested to bring in a hundred
and twenty pounds a year; but what is that?"

"Not enough to live upon as you are living here," he admitted.

"Nor anywhere else," she replied. "It's no earthly use, Mark. I am
spoiled for that. I draw cheques when I want any money, and now and
then I get a letter from the bank manager to say my account is
overdrawn. I go to see him; my deed-box is fetched up from the realms
below, the manager sells something for me, and so I go along till the
next time."

"Then you are living on your capital!" cried Mark.

"What else can I live upon?" she demanded.

"The interest--naturally."

"Now, do you really think I look the sort of person to live on a
hundred pounds a year?" she said, throwing out her hands.

"But if you haven't got any more! Don't you realize," he suggested,
"that the day is bound to come when you will find yourself out in the
cold?"

"Oh yes," she said, with a sigh. "That's when I get a fit of the
miserables. But something is certain to happen."

"You anticipate a miracle?"

"It wouldn't be far out of the natural order of things," she replied.

"You expect some one--one of your aunts, for instance--to leave you a
fortune!" said Mark.

"Oh dear, no! I am not in the least likely to wish any one to die.
Really I think you are rather stupid this evening. There might be a
marriage, you know. Such things do happen!"

"Anyhow," he answered, "you mustn't let yourself be frightened into
marrying Colonel Faversham."

Rising from her end of the sofa, Bridget glided to his, and standing
close in front of him, so that her skirt brushed his knees, she looked
insinuatingly into his face.

"Will you," she said, "kindly tell me what I am to do, Mr. Driver?"

CHAPTER XI

MARK REPORTS PROGRESS

Mark Driver must have been much more obtuse than the most of his
friends believed, to fail to recognize the invitation in Bridget's
demeanour. Although he had not the slightest intention to profit by
it, he could not pretend that for the moment it lacked enticement.

It seemed perfectly clear that she was holding the balance between
himself and Colonel Faversham; and realizing that her income must some
day inevitably be exhausted, shrinking from an appeal to her aunts at
Sandbay, that she was determined to