“I am expecting Mark,” answered Carrissima.

“Mark again!”

“And Phoebe,” said Carrissima.

“Off on the spree—­the three of you?”

“Mark,” Carrissima explained, “asked us to help him choose a—­a carpet——­”

“Devilish thoughtful of him,” said the colonel in his most amiable and significant tone.

“For his patients’ waiting-room!”

“Well, if you get one to match your cheeks,” was the answer, “it will be a nice cheerful colour for them.  It strikes me you’re seeing a good deal of the fellow.”

“I always have done,” said Carrissima, devoutly wishing he would arrive to release her.

“Be candid now!” cried the colonel.  “Be honest.  I like honesty.  Anyhow, you can’t deceive me.  Carrissima, I’ll tell you one thing.  There’s nothing on this earth would give me greater gratification, nothing!”

She durst not even yet allow her hopes to run away with her, and while she was wondering whether there would be time to go upstairs and powder her face or whether, after all, the remedy might not be worse than the disease, she heard the street door bell ring.

“I will go to Golfney Place to-morrow, if you like,” she said, with a momentary sense of something resembling sympathy for her father.  Because, if what she was constantly hearing from Sybil were true, it seemed extremely probable that Colonel Faversham was doomed to disappointment.  According to Sybil, Jimmy went to see Bridget day after day, and granting that she was determined upon escape from her pecuniary troubles by a marriage of some kind, surely she would choose Jimmy in preference to the colonel, if only for the fact that he was much more wealthy.  So that Colonel Faversham were spared Carrissima did not feel disposed to judge Bridget too severely; disapproving of her manoeuvres, indeed, but having enough to do in the management of her own affairs.

“Well, well, go to-morrow,” said her father.  “I’ll answer for it she will be pleased to see you.  Take her a few flowers!  Ah!” Colonel Faversham added, as the door opened, “here’s Mark!”

“Where is Phoebe?” asked Carrissima, as she offered her hand.

“An awful bore,” answered Mark.  “Victor has a bit of a cold; anyhow I couldn’t persuade his devoted mother to desert him this afternoon.”

“I suppose,” said Carrissima, hoping that she was not betraying her disappointment, “we must wait for another day.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Colonel Faversham.  “Why shouldn’t you keep to your arrangement?  What is to hinder it, I should like to know.”

“Do you mind, Carrissima?” asked Mark, gazing eagerly into her face.

“Not at all,” she said, and a few minutes later Colonel Faversham stood on the doorstep, looking after them with obvious approval, as they were driven away from the house in a taxi-cab.

CHAPTER XVI