n
equivocal game, there could, Carrissima felt certain on reflection, be
no justification for the innuendoes which she had allowed herself to
make. The truth was that even now she scarcely knew what she had said
in her wrath. She remembered that odious ideas had flashed unbidden
across her mind--ideas which now appeared as unworthy of herself as of
Mark.

Still, after making every allowance, her disillusioning remained
complete. How could a man feel an interest in the precise colour of
her own eyes one day and kiss the lips of another woman the next? She
knew that her wish had been father to the thought, and she felt
exceedingly bitter against Miss Bridget Rosser, who appeared still to
have three men dangling at her heels.

One of these was becoming impatient. Colonel Faversham had reached the
end of his tether. He realized that his authority over Bridget would
not bear a great strain, and accordingly on Wednesday morning he made
his way to Donaldson's, where he purchased a handsome and expensive
jewelled waist-belt, such as she had admired on an actress when he took
her to the play a few evenings ago. Armed with this peace-offering,
Colonel Faversham reached Golfney Place at eleven o'clock on the
morning after Mark Driver's unfortunate visit.

CHAPTER XIX

AN APPOINTMENT

"Oh dear!" cried Bridget, as she clasped the belt round her waist, "how
kind you always are to me!"

"I don't see why you should sigh about that," answered Colonel
Faversham. "I mean to be kind to you as long as I live, and I hope
that will be a good many years yet. But there's nothing like tit for
tat, you know, Bridget. Come, now, my darling, I want you to be kind
to me."

"If only you could see into my mind you would say I was a perfect
little wretch!" she murmured, taking off the belt and laying it on a
table.

"Just as well we can't do that sort of thing," said the colonel. "I
never care for women who are too good for human nature's daily food.
You don't mind if I light a cigar," he added, sitting down with caution.

"Oh dear, no," she returned, and going to the mantelshelf, brought a
box of matches, one of which she struck, holding it to the end of his
cigar. When he had lighted it, he captured her wrist with elephantine
playfulness.

"Bridget," he exclaimed, as she laughingly freed herself, "suppose we
cut the cackle and get to the bosses. I think I've been patient long
enough."

"I have never imagined that p