sima had appeared on the scene a moment too late to witness
it. Even if she had not dropped her roses on the landing, her
demeanour must have sufficed to lull him into a false sense of
security. Nevertheless, he felt extremely uncomfortable until he left
the room; and indeed he perceived that even his presence at the house
might, after yesterday's protestations, require some explanation.
Hence his suggestion to go to Grandison Square after dinner the same
evening.

He wished devoutly that he had not made a fool of himself, without
considering that he had been guilty of anything worse than an act of
folly. It was not as if he were actually engaged to Carrissima,
although he was now in a mood to regret that he had ever bestowed a
thought on any other woman since his birth.

Mark had arranged to see Sir Wilford Scones again before night, and his
intention was to make his way from Burnham Crescent to Grandison
Square; but the question now arose whether he ought not to call upon
Bridget and make some sort of _amende_ for the incident of the
afternoon.

"Oh, Mark!" she exclaimed, the moment he entered her presence, and
before he found time to speak; "how could you do it! You, of all men!
You always seemed just the one to be trusted. What can there be about
me that you should imagine I was that--that sort of woman?"

"What was there about me, rather?" said Mark, looking rather
shamefaced. "Bridget, I can only tell you I am immensely sorry."

"Suppose," she cried, "that Carrissima had seen you! Suppose she had
not dropped her flowers! What would be the use of saying you were
sorry then? She has always been horridly jealous----"

"Carrissima jealous!"

"From the first time she came here! I suppose it began that evening
you took me to Belloni's and kept her waiting for dinner. She would
never have forgiven you. Mark, you have had a very, very narrow
escape, and I am not certain you deserve to get off so easily.
Because, don't you see, your treatment of me was the worse on account
of your love for her."

He stood with a dejected expression on his face, and nothing more was
said, for a few moments; then Bridget lightly rested a hand on his
sleeve.

"Ah, well," she said, "I don't want to pile up the agony. Besides,"
she added, with an obvious effort, "I must be honest. I--I know I have
given you reason to think meanly of me--vilely! But, don't you see,
Mark, I--I have done with all that. I was never so an