“Then Sybil is at home!”

“She turned up last night,” he explained.  “The world has naturally stood still during her absence, and she hasn’t a moment to spare for the ordinary pleasures of life.  Moral, will you look her up to-morrow?”

Jimmy then turned to Mrs. Reynolds, who was sitting with a deprecatory expression on her face, while Colonel Faversham, seeing an opportunity to cross the room to Bridget, gripped the arms of his chair preparatory to rising.

“Ah, Jimmy!” he said.  “I’m glad to see you!”

“Yes, but please don’t get up, colonel,” returned Jimmy, looking sympathetically at his host’s leg.  “A little stiff at the joint?  Rheumatism, I suppose?”

“Nothing of the sort,” said Colonel Faversham, wincing, as he stood erect.  “I never felt better in my life.”

“In fact,” suggested Carrissima, “father has a growing pain.”

“I have not any pain in my body,” cried the colonel, devoutly wishing he had not.  “I will walk you twenty miles any day you like.”

“Walking,” said Jimmy, “is becoming a lost art.  We all choose some other mode of locomotion when we can.  If we don’t fly, we motor, and before long it will be quite customary to skate on the pavement.”

“Jimmy, your presence is demoralizing,” answered Carrissima.  “Mrs. Reynolds was discussing the influence of democracy on the fine arts, and now you have brought us down to frivolity.”

“I don’t think you know Miss Rosser,” said Colonel Faversham, drawing nearer to the empty chair by Bridget’s side.  “Mr. Clynesworth—­Miss Rosser.”

The colonel would have given something to avoid this presentation, but since Jimmy had unfortunately come, he would not allow Bridget to be left out in the cold.  As Jimmy bowed, he coolly took the chair which would have already been occupied, if caution and time had not been desirable this afternoon in Colonel Faversham’s movements.

“I should have known you anywhere,” said Bridget, without the least hesitation.  “Your photograph,” she explained, as Mrs. Reynolds changed her position to engage her host’s attention, “has represented you during your absence.  Carrissima was kind enough to fill in the colours.”

“It’s to be hoped she laid them on with a trowel,” was the answer, “and gave me a better character than I deserve.”

“Don’t you deserve a good one?”

“Oh well, I am not going to give myself away,” said Jimmy.  “Anyhow, I’m far from deserving this good fortune.”

Her cheerful laugh brought Colonel Faversham’s anxious eyes to her face, and he began to realize the disadvantages of a secret engagement.

“I think,” she was remarking, “that I used to know Miss Clynesworth.”

“A liberal education,” said Jimmy, “and I hope you will soon improve it.  Quite infuriating,” he added.

“What is?” asked Bridget.

“The cussedness of destiny!  Weeks have passed since Carrissima came to ask Sybil to look you up.  If she had been in London she would have flown to your house; you might graciously have returned her visit; I should have seen you, and precious time would have been saved.”