“As hard as wood,” she said.

“Ah!” he answered, with a smile of relief and satisfaction, as he turned down his shirtsleeve again; “I thought that would astonish you.  Not row myself!”

He was obviously in the highest spirits, and indeed he was still under the influence of the intoxicating pleasures of the earlier part of the day.  Not that this had passed without some drawbacks.  The present which he had bought at Donaldson’s had been the cause of considerable cogitation.  He was hampered by the fear that Bridget might regard what he would like to bestow upon her as too significant, and in the end had selected a handsome and costly crocodile-hide dressing-bag.  It would prove suitable for her honeymoon, and it was with not a little regret that he felt bound to order the initials “B.  R.” to be engraved on the gold stoppers of the bottles, instead of “B.  F.”  The alteration could, however, no doubt be made in due season.

Not wishing to open Carrissima’s eyes unnecessarily soon, Colonel Faversham gave instructions for the bag to be sent to Number 5, Golfney Place, before half-past ten on Wednesday morning, and he felt deeply disappointed when Bridget gently but firmly refused to accept it.

Incongruously enough, she was persuaded nevertheless to accompany him to Richmond, and the drive at close quarters in the taxi-cab, the tete-a-tete meal, the bottle of champagne which Bridget scarcely tasted, had, collectively and separately, inflamed Colonel Faversham to the sticking-point.  When they reached Golfney Place at half-past five, another disappointment lay in store for him, inasmuch as she refused to allow him to enter the house—­she felt too tired after the drive!  He could come to-morrow, and, meantime, he might send for the dressing-bag.

She could be so tantalizing now and then, that it was easy to believe she was scoffing at him.  During the day she had more than once dragged Mark’s name into the conversation, and even Carrissima did not feel more curious respecting their precise relationship than her father.

Notwithstanding his anxiety concerning the critic on his hearth, and the more exacerbating one in Charteris Street, Colonel Faversham had reached the end of his tether.  This delightful girl, with her charming ingenuousness, her high spirits, might actually become his wife in the course of a few months.

A few months!  She might be prevailed upon to marry him within the next few weeks.  What cause could there possibly be for delay?  Surely he was entitled to please himself!  Absurd to imagine that a man of his age must regulate his life to please a slip of a girl like Carrissima, or a solemn young puritan like Lawrence!

When Colonel Faversham arrived at Golfney Place on Thursday morning, Bridget was wearing a new frock; quite light, almost white, in fact, and setting off her slender figure to the most admirable advantage.  How many new frocks he had seen her wearing, Colonel Faversham found it difficult to count.  The crocodile-hide dressing-bag stood ominously on the table, and, by way of a greeting, she reminded him that he had been asked to send for it.