“You can’t say that of Carrissima!”

“No, no, a dear girl,” he replied.  “But a little sarcastic at times.  I detest sarcasm.  I won’t allow it.  But no man can control a woman’s face.  I can see Carrissima’s smile,” he added, taking out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead.

“How ridiculous,” said Bridget, “to make yourself so uncomfortable on my account.”

“Let him laugh who wins!” cried Colonel Faversham.  “If they think I’m a fool—­well, I don’t want to be wise.  Of course, there’s one way——­”

“What is that?” asked Bridget.

“I don’t know whether you would put up with it,” said the colonel.  “Why,” he suggested with eager eyes on her face, “why in the world shouldn’t we keep it to ourselves?”

“How would it be possible?” she said, with a thoughtful expression.

“Trust me for that,” was the answer.  “There are few things I can’t do when I make up my mind.  Admit the principle, and everything else is easy!  Keep it dark, you know.  In the first place you’ve got to promise to be my wife.  We don’t breathe a word to any living being.  Then one fine morning we go out and get the knot tied:  at a registry office, a church, anywhere you like.”

“I shouldn’t feel that I was properly married,” said Bridget, “unless I went to church.”

“Then you will!” urged Colonel Faversham, half beside himself with satisfaction.

“Please let me hear the whole scheme,” she insisted.

“Don’t you see,” he explained, “you and I—­my dear little wife—­would be off somewhere abroad.  Anywhere you choose!”

“Italy,” said Bridget.  “We would travel through to Milan, then on to Rome, Naples, Capri—­Capri would be delightful.”

“My darling!”

“But,” she continued, “your plan is quite out of the question.  I hate anything resembling secrecy.  Surely you don’t imagine that if I married you I shouldn’t want every one to know.”

“Why, naturally,” said the colonel.  “We should send Carrissima a telegram from Paris.  The point is that she wouldn’t know what had happened until we were out of reach.  By the time we got back to Grandison Square she would have learnt to take a sensible view of the accomplished fact.  So would Lawrence.”

“Oh dear, you sound like a child who is bent on doing something he ought to be ashamed of!”

“It’s true you make me feel like a boy again,” he admitted.  “Not that I have ever felt anything you could call old or even middle-aged.  It will be the proudest day of my life if you consent,” he added, and then Bridget broke into a laugh.  She threw back her head as if she were putting away every misgiving, and Colonel Faversham drew near with the intention to take her in his arms.  Her demeanour suddenly stiffened, however.  In a condescending way she graciously permitted him to press his lips to her cheek; nor was this unexpected reserve the only drawback to his new happiness.