“Why not?” he demanded.  “Why shouldn’t you have a motor-car?  I often wonder I’ve never gone in for one before now.  Bridget, there are few things you shan’t have when once you’re my wife.”

She leaned back in her chair, biting her nether lip, and every now and then glancing reflectively at the colonel, as if in hesitation.

“Such a delightful ride!” she cried a few minutes later.

“Eh—­what—­when?” he said.

“This morning, of course.  Jimmy took me by surprise.  He called for me shortly after eleven.  I couldn’t resist going.  We went through some of the loveliest Surrey villages.”

“What about lunch?” asked Colonel Faversham, with difficulty bottling up his wrath.

“Oh, we stopped at the sweetest little inn that seemed to be miles away from everywhere and everybody.  Of course, we hadn’t much time to spare.”

That was one consolation, and Bridget’s candour was another; nevertheless.  Colonel Faversham found his Sunday afternoon quite spoilt, and finally left Golfney Place in a humour to make things a little uncomfortable for any one who crossed his path.  He was beginning to notice that Mark Driver came to Grandison Square somewhat often, and seeing Carrissima wearing her hat and jacket a few afternoons later the colonel asked where she was going.

“I am expecting Phoebe,” she answered.  “Mark has taken some rooms in Weymouth Street and we are invited to inspect them to-day.”

Colonel Faversham chuckled as she left the house.  Nothing could suit his purpose better!  She would never, he felt certain, be content to stay at home under the new Mrs. Faversham’s regime, and her own marriage would prove an admirable solution of the difficulty.

Mark Driver was just now in his element.  His friend, Doctor Harefield, had broken down in health, his only hope being to relinquish an incipient practice and spend a considerable time in a more favourable climate.  Mark had taken over Harefield’s three rooms:  a dining-room on the ground floor, intended to serve also as a patients’ waiting-room; a small consulting-room in its rear, and a bedroom at the top of the house.  The furniture, such as it was, had been bought at a valuation, not that Mark had intended to make such an outlay at the moment, but it was understood that the goodwill of Harefield’s practice was to be thrown in.  It was, in fact, far too small to be sold separately, although it might form the nucleus of the much larger one which his successor fully intended to build up.

Mark, having provided an elaborate tea and a profusion of flowers, looked forward with considerable zest to Carrissima’s visit with Phoebe as her chaperon, and yet as he stood at the window awaiting her arrival he wondered whether he had not perhaps been a little too precipitate over his recent investment.

His outlook had been steadily changing since the day after his return from Paris.  Although it appeared as if love had come upon him suddenly, he knew it had done nothing of the kind.  While it seemed to have blossomed in a day, he understood that it had been developing for many months, perhaps, even for many years.