She naturally perceived that something must have occurred seriously to ruffle him, even if he had not slammed the door of the smoking-room so violently behind him.  It did not take Carrissima long to draw her own conclusions.  It is true she was ignorant of her father’s engagement to Bridget, but she had anticipated his deposition by Jimmy Clynesworth, until Mark’s conduct had complicated the outlook.  On the whole, Carrissima was inclined to think that the climax had been reached this morning; that Colonel Faversham, having gone to Golfney Place, had quarrelled with Bridget, who had insisted on returning such presents as he had from time to time given to her.

While Colonel Faversham remained hidden in his smoking-room, Carrissima’s mind was busy with his affairs, until about three-quarters of an hour later she happened to be crossing the hall, and saw Jimmy on the doorstep in conversation with Knight.

“Oh, Jimmy!” she exclaimed, “do come in!”

Without any hesitation he entered the hall, accompanying her up-stairs to the drawing-room.

“I don’t know whether you have heard the news,” he said, as he shut the door.

“Not a word!” was the answer.  “I am positively dying to hear it.”

A smile broke over Jimmy’s face.

“Bridget has left Golfney Place!” he cried.

“When did she go?” asked Carrissima.

“At half-past three yesterday afternoon.”

“Has she sought refuge where she ought to have sought it long ago?”

“Where is that?” demanded Jimmy.

“With her aunts at Sandbay!”

“By the bye,” he said, “can you tell me their name?”

“Now—­let me see!” answered Carrissima, reflecting for an instant.  “Oh yes—­Dobson.  I feel certain that is right.  It sounds quite ordinary, doesn’t it?”

Jimmy Clynesworth had gone to bed the previous night, but not to sleep very early, with the fixed determination to stand clear of Bridget for the future.  He felt, indeed, too distrustful of himself to re-approach her and yet remain loyal to his old friend Colonel Faversham.

When, however, he went into his own den to smoke an after-breakfast pipe, the first thing his eyes rested upon was a copy of one of David Rosser’s novels.  It obviously ought to be returned!  He knew that Bridget valued her complete collection of her father’s works.  Of course nothing would have been easier than to send it by his man, or, for that matter, by the parcel post.

But Jimmy determined to take back the book in person; he would not enter the house, he would leave it at the door and just ask Miller how Bridget was this morning!  At the back of his mind probably was some subconscious, unrecognized desire to seize any chance of seeing her once more if only for a moment, but on reaching the house he heard a repetition of the story with which Miller had overwhelmed Colonel Faversham.