“I can’t say so this morning,” she insisted.  “I can say that I won’t if you like.”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t do that!” Colonel Faversham quite humbly entreated.

“Then please don’t bother me for an answer,” she said, and, with all her lightness, he realized that she had a will of her own.  His only consolation was that, if her word could be accepted, she had not given her heart to Mark or any one else.  Whether she was to be believed or not, however, his infatuation remained unaffected.  He had reached a condition in which he longed for possession upon any terms whatsoever, but since it was obvious that she did not intend to pledge herself this morning, there was no help for it!  He must be as little discontented as possible to leave the question open for the present.

“Well, then,” he suggested, “if I manage to bottle up my feelings for a week or so, will you try to think favourably of me in the meantime?”

“Why, yes, of course I will,” she answered.  “But it must be distinctly understood.  I am as free as the wind!  I have not promised anything.”

Beyond this she could not be prevailed upon to go, but before he left Golfney Place, she gratified him by consenting to keep the dressing-bag.  She thanked him, indeed, very charmingly; so that, notwithstanding his rebuff, Colonel Faversham left the house disappointed, it is true, but even more her slave than ever.

CHAPTER IX

MARK RETURNS

It was one afternoon towards the end of April, and Carrissima congratulated herself that she had made up her mind to spend it indoors, although the trees in the parks were in fresh green leaf, and London was looking its brightest and best.  There had been, however, a few showers at luncheon-time, and Colonel Faversham had set out through one afterwards “to his club.”

Carrissima, of course, knew very well that he was bound for Golfney Place, and for her own part, she determined to stay at home until tea-time, with the consequence that she saw Mark about half-past four.

He entered the room looking as handsome, as alert and energetic as ever; a man, you felt certain, who would succeed in making his way in the world, as indeed he fully intended to do.

“When did you get back?” asked Carrissima, remembering that her welcome must not be too cordial.

“Late yesterday afternoon,” he answered.

“Have you had a good time?”

“Oh, ripping!” he continued.  “Old Wentworth knows his Paris, and we didn’t waste many hours.”

Six months ago it would not have been in the least surprising that he should pay her a visit directly he returned, but now she was wondering whether he had already seen Bridget Rosser.

“You’re not staying in Charteris Street?” she asked.

“Not a bit of it.  I’m at Duffield’s Hotel again for the present.  But I thought I ought to give Phoebe a look up last night.  I went there after dinner.  She tells me you have seen Bridget?” said Mark, leaning forward rather eagerly in his chair.