ere was only Lawrence's word, and for
her own part Carrissima would have been sorry if the world were quite
the rabbit warren which, in spite of his own remarkable domestic
felicity, her brother appeared to think it.

CHAPTER X

CONFIDENCES

Mark Driver, having dined at Duffield's Hotel, set out, with a cigar
between his lips, to Golfney Place. In the Strand he hailed a
taxi-cab, and his arrival obviously took Bridget completely by
surprise. She had always an alluring, seductive way with her, and now,
unaware of his return from Paris, she rose almost impulsively from her
chair, and came to meet him with such an air of abandon that he thought
for the moment she intended to fling herself incontinently into his
arms.

Bridget looked peculiarly fresh and fragrant this evening in the light
morning frock, which she had not troubled to change for her solitary
dinner. It was almost impossible that any man of Mark's age should not
feel flattered and pleased by her satisfaction at the sight of him.

"Oh, how glad I am!" she exclaimed, holding both his hands so tightly
that it would have been difficult to withdraw them if he wished. Her
frock was touching his coat as she stood gazing into his face. "Such a
dreadfully long time, Mark!" she continued. "I hope you are going to
stay in London at last."

"Yes, all my wanderings are over," he answered.

"Do sit down," she said, releasing his hands. "I hope the room isn't
too hot. I have a fire chiefly for company's sake, you know."

"Have you been feeling dull?" he asked, sitting down at one end of the
large sofa, while she sank on to the other.

"Only during the evenings," she explained. "I sit here by myself night
after night. I try to read, but gradually my thoughts wander, and I'm
back at home again. Home is always the dear old house at Crowborough."

"Well now," said Mark, "what have you been doing all these weeks?"

"Oh, I--I don't know," she answered, trifling with some trimming on her
dress.

"Anyhow," suggested Mark, looking round the large room, "you seem to
have plenty of flowers."

They were standing in every available space: in pots, in bowls, in
vases; the air of the room was laden with their scent.

"They all came from Colonel Faversham," said Bridget, more soberly than
usual. "Have you seen Carrissima by any chance?"

"This afternoon," returned Mark.

"Then you know she has seen me. I think she is perfectly sweet, Mark!
She came he