as so bright that
he began to regret his return to London, although it was true that he
could reach his favourite golf-course in three-quarters of an hour in a
taxi-cab. There, indeed, Colonel Faversham spent the most of his
waking hours, usually finishing up with a couple of hours' bridge
before returning by rail to Grandison Square in time for dinner. Then
he was occasionally irritable, and although he would never admit that
he felt tired, Carrissima had her own opinion.

On the Saturday after his return from Church Stretton, however, he
stayed at home, and as he sat smoking after an excellent luncheon,
Carrissima came in wearing her hat and jacket.

"I'm going to see Phoebe," she explained, in the act of fastening her
gloves. "I don't suppose I shall be home to tea unless you want me."

"Want you!" was the answer. "Good heavens, no! Why in the world
should I want you. Do you imagine I can't feed myself? Thank
goodness, I'm not in my second childhood yet. Besides, I shall most
likely have tea at the club. What a day, Carrissima! What a day!"

Having finished his cigar about a quarter of an hour later, Colonel
Faversham went to his dressing-room, where he spent a few minutes
brushing his hair with great vigour and twisting his moustache to a
point. On going down to the hall again, he noticed that the street
door stood open, and that Knight was talking to some one on the
threshold. As the colonel took his top hat from the table, he saw that
the visitor was a young lady who looked admirably in harmony with the
spring season. She wore a lightish grey cloth frock and a wide-brimmed
hat, beneath which a vast quantity of chestnut-coloured hair
conspicuously appeared.

He reached the open door as she was on the point of turning away, but,
seeing him, she hesitated.

"Miss Rosser, colonel," said Knight, standing between the pair.

"Good-afternoon, Miss Rosser," cried Colonel Faversham. "Pray come in!
You wish to see Carrissima! I assure you she will be immensely
disappointed if you refuse to wait. I may mention that I had the
pleasure of knowing your father."

"Oh, I remember you perfectly," she replied. "As well as if it were
yesterday."

"Come this way, come this way," he insisted, replacing his hat on the
table as she entered the hall. "Carrissima would never forgive me.
She was talking about you before I had been in the house ten
minutes----"

"But you were just going out," she expostulated.