Without Jimmy, however, Sybil’s hands would have been tied.  Whilst disagreeing entirely with his opinions, disapproving of many of his actions, she never scrupled to avail herself of his munificence, failing which her occupation would have gone.  Above everything, Sybil desired to see Jimmy take his proper place in the country.  He ought certainly to enter the House of Commons, and, in fact, to do a great many things which he persisted in leaving undone; above all, perhaps, he ought to marry Carrissima.

“I wish,” said Sybil, the morning after her return from looking after Lady Ramsbottom, “you would go to Grandison Square this afternoon, Jimmy.  I should be so very much obliged if you would ask dear Carrissima to be kind enough to come and see me to-morrow.”

“You obviously take me for a halfpenny postcard,” he answered.  “If I go it will be without prejudice.  Don’t imagine I’m blind to your little game!  Sybil, I’m fed up with Carrissima.  A thousand to one she will end by marrying old Mark.”

“Jimmy,” said Sybil reproachfully, “you know I never bet.  You would give me the greatest pleasure in the world.  I long to see you married to some really nice girl.”

“Whether I care for her or not!” suggested Jimmy.

“Oh, how can you put such words into my mouth?” said Sybil.  “As if I were capable of dreaming of such a thing.  Some dear girl whom you love and respect——­”

“That’s the difficulty,” he answered.  “Here I am waiting and trying not to be impatient, but she doesn’t come along.  As soon as I see a dear girl and love and respect her, I’ll marry her like a shot if she’s willing.  Probably she won’t be because, you see, she would have to love and respect me.”

Having nothing better to do and little dreaming of the fate in preparation for him, Jimmy set out in due course to Grandison Square, where, ten minutes earlier, Mrs. Reynolds had arrived:  a tall, thin woman of about fifty years of age, who had been an intimate friend of the late Mrs. Faversham.  She had a pleasant, if too grave face, and a certain dignity of bearing.  On her entrance, she sat down close to Colonel Faversham’s chair, holding him so closely in an uninteresting conversation that he could not pay the slightest attention to Bridget.  She, left to her own devices, looked peculiarly charming this afternoon, in a new hat, which Carrissima knew must have cost quite five guineas.

Colonel Faversham’s face wore a gloomy expression.  He was annoyed because Bridget had not been introduced to Mrs. Reynolds, and in considerable pain from the increasing rheumatism in his knee joint.  In the midst of his old friend’s monologue, Knight announced—­

“Mr. Clynesworth.”

“Good-afternoon, Jimmy,” cried Carrissima, rising promptly from her chair.  “How nice and surprising of you to come!”

“I’ll tell the truth if I perish,” he answered.  “The fact is I was sent.  I’m a special messenger.”