“So am I,” she said.

He took one hand out of his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You see,” he remarked, “I have known the colonel nearly my whole life.  Well, good-bye,” he added, holding out his hand.

“Oh—­good-bye,” said Bridget, and Jimmy was on his way down-stairs the next moment, out of the house and losing no time in finding his way back to Upper Grosvenor Street.  Going at once to the smoking-room, he sat down, and leaning forward, covered his face with his hands.  In this dejected attitude Sybil found him a few minutes later.  As he had obviously not observed her entrance, she went to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“My dearest Jimmy,” she explained, “whatever is the matter?”

Rising from his chair, he walked to the mantelshelf, took a cigarette from a box and lighted it.

“I may as well get it off my chest,” he said.  “I went to ask Bridget to marry me.”

“Oh—­Jimmy!” was the reproachful answer.

“You needn’t bother yourself,” he explained.  “She took the wind out of my sails by the announcement that she was affianced to old Faversham before I saw her face.”

“To Colonel Faversham!” cried Sybil.  “Poor Carrissima!”

Sybil, it is true, had too much experience to be actually astonished at such enormity, but nevertheless she was deeply shocked.  Why, Miss Rosser was engaged to be married to the colonel at the time when she had been seen in Mark Driver’s arms.

“Understand,” said Jimmy, “Carrissima is not to be told.  No one knows but the two concerned and myself.  I was never so sorely tempted in my life.”

“Tempted!” exclaimed Sybil.

“To play the part of Young Lochinvar, you know.  She would have gone with me!” he added excitedly.  “She would have gone with me!”

“My dear,” returned his sister, “you could surely never dream of acting so dishonourably.  Such an old friend as Colonel Faversham, too!”

“Oh yes, I dreamed of it,” said Jimmy.  “You know they say we’re all no better than we should be in our dreams.  My difficulty was that I woke too soon!”

CHAPTER XX

IN SIGHT OF PORT

“Good-morning, Carrissima!” said Colonel Faversham on Thursday morning, rubbing his palms briskly together as he entered the dining-room.  “It looks as if there’s going to be a change in the weather.  A little rain will do good.”

“Will it?” answered Carrissima, perfunctorily.

“What’s the matter?” he demanded.  “You’re not eating anything.  Always have a good breakfast.  Lay a foundation for the day.  Look at me!  When my appetite fails, I shall begin to think it’s time I gave in.”

He made an enormous breakfast, and when at last it ended, took out his cigar-case.  Having lighted a cigar, he carried the newspaper to his smoking-room and sat down, only to get up again the next minute.  He did not care a scrap about the news!  The Socialists might upset the constitution for all Colonel Faversham minded this morning!  His thoughts already outran him to Golfney Place, where he fully expected to hear from Bridget’s lips that she should be prepared to marry him within a week or a fortnight at the latest.