With that she left the room and shut the door, only to re-open it again a few moments later, whereupon Mark Driver entered without any announcement.  To judge by appearances, he was far more astonished to behold Carrissima than she to see him.  For a second he stood stock still just within the door, gazing down at her face in silence.  It was she who at last broke through the embarrassment, rising and offering her hand.

“Good-evening, Mark!” she said.

“Good-evening,” he replied, and then the conversation threatened to languish.

“What,” asked Carrissima, “do you imagine has become of our host and hostess?”

“Goodness knows,” said Mark.  “There’s obviously some mistake.  Anyhow, I was immensely surprised to see their other guest.”

“Really!” cried Carrissima, sitting down again in an easy-chair.  “I don’t quite see why!”

“The fact remains that I was,” he answered, with the faintest of smiles.

“Were you also pleased, by any chance?”

“Suppose we say I was—­well, dazzled,” said Mark, drawing closer to her chair.

“The simple explanation must be,” returned Carrissima, with a tremor in her voice, “that Bridget said eight, and we understood half-past seven.”

“In that event we must have been dreaming!”

“But then,” she suggested, “it isn’t likely that two persons would dream the same thing, is it?”

“Oh well, I’m not certain,” said Mark, and he rested a hand on the arm of her chair.

“You see, Bridget invited me when I was here last week,” Carrissima explained.  “I might easily have made a blunder.”

“She wrote to me,” was the answer.  “I have it in black and white.  There’s no getting out of that.”

“It must be a quarter to eight!” Carrissima suggested.

“Seventeen minutes to,” said Mark, taking out his watch.

“I hope no accident has happened,” suggested Carrissima, and bringing forward a chair, he sat down close to her side.  “One is reminded,” she added, “of a certain evening when Lawrence and Phoebe waited for you—­do you remember?”

“Oh dear, yes,” said Mark, passing a hand over his forehead.  “Let us hope these people won’t be quite so much behind as I was!”

“Are you afraid of being bored?” asked Carrissima.  “Or are you merely hungry?”

“It seems a long time since I saw you last,” he remarked.

“Whose fault was that?”

“My misfortune, anyhow,” he admitted.

“You had only to come to Grandison Square,” said Carrissima.  “You knew I was always on view!”

They both lapsed into silence, thinking in common of his last visit to Colonel Faversham’s, when, perhaps, neither of them had shown to the best advantage.

“It’s difficult to shut one’s mind to facts,” exclaimed Mark suddenly.

“I fancy I have heard you protest that few things can be more misleading,” she retorted.