“You might send it to Golfney Place with my card,” suggested Carrissima, taking one from her case.

“It shall be there quite early, madam,” said the salesman, making a note in a long, slim book.

At the moment Carrissima scarcely noticed the significance of the fact that he appeared already to know the name of the recipient and the number of her house.  He had certainly written “Miss Rosser, 5——­” before Carrissima had time to give him the address!

“The initials are B——­”

But he had scribbled “B.  R.” in his book while yet the sentence was incomplete.

“How did you know?” she demanded eagerly.

“I beg your pardon, madam!” said the salesman, whilst Mr. Donaldson drew watchfully nearer.

“You wrote down the initials before I told you what they were!” she exclaimed.

“I think not,” said Mr. Donaldson hastily.  “I think you are making a mistake!”

She knew she had done nothing of the kind.  She knew that Colonel Faversham must have been at the jeweller’s before her this morning; that he had selected something to commemorate Bridget’s birthday; something upon which also her initials were to be engraved.

“After all,” she said, “I think you shall send the card-case to Grandison Square to-morrow morning.”

Carrissima paid the bill, but in the reaction of her feelings she doubted whether she should give Bridget a present after all.  It began to look as if there were some justification for Lawrence’s suspicions, and for the first time she experienced serious fears for the future.

CHAPTER VII

THE EXCURSION

Carrissima could not make up her mind.  When she set forth to Charteris Street to help in the entertainment of Phoebe’s extremely juvenile guests, she was determined not to go near Golfney Place the following day.  Seeing her amongst the children no one would have imagined that she had a sorrow in the world; she was the life and soul of the youthful party, and finally returned to Grandison Square in a becomingly dishevelled condition in time for dinner.

The following morning Colonel Faversham went to the hall at eleven o’clock, wearing a flower in his buttonhole.  Carrissima accompanying him dutifully to the door, remarked that he had a new top hat.

“Do you think it suits me?” he asked, turning to face her.  “Not too much brim, Carrissima?”

“It looks a trifle small,” she answered.

“Small—­nonsense!  A man doesn’t want a hat to come down over his eyes.  I’m not a fogy yet, I hope.”

“Why, of course not,” she exclaimed.  “Still, you will have to hold it on in the wind.”

“Anyhow, that’s better than using infernal pins that are a danger to the community,” said Colonel Faversham.  “I’ll tell you what:  next time I choose a hat I’ll get you to come with me.”

“I suppose you will be home to lunch,” she suggested, telling herself she was shamefully cunning.  But she could not help suspecting that he was off on some jaunt with Bridget, and no doubt she felt a little bitter about it.