“She was talking about her earlier days at Crowborough,” he said, with considerable embarrassment.  “She had been there that morning.  She seemed upset, and I—­well, I lost my head for the moment.  I hadn’t seen her since the day after my return from Paris.  What I told Carrissima was absolutely true.  The moment she entered Bridget’s room I saw what a fool I had been.  Of course, we both made the mistake of imagining Carrissima had seen nothing.  But anyhow—­whatever she saw, to think she could jump to such a conclusion!”

“Not very surprising, after all,” said Jimmy quietly.  “I fancy that I should have thought the same.  You must admit the situation appeared a little compromising.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you had seen Bridget later on,” answered Mark.

“Look here, old fellow,” said Jimmy, “you and I have known each other a good many years.  You remember when we used to fight like billy-oh at Brighton.”

“I dare say you feel rather as if you would like to punch my head now,” returned Mark.

“H’m, well—­I tell you frankly,” said Jimmy.  “This jaw we’re having may influence my whole life.”

“It has already influenced mine,” cried Mark.

“How’s that?” demanded Jimmy.

“I have been hoping to marry Carrissima—­to put it plainly.  You’ve shown what she thinks of me.”

“Surely,” said Jimmy, “she had more than a little excuse!”

“My dear chap,” replied Mark, “you’re not such a prig that you can’t understand the possibility of a man’s losing his head about a pretty woman.”

“Why, no,” said Jimmy; “but I wish to goodness you had not chosen that particular one.”

“If I had imagined Carrissima saw us, I should have explained things at once,” added Mark.

“The question is,” suggested Jimmy, “whether your explanation would have sounded quite convincing.”

“Good Lord!” said Mark, “you speak as if you were not convinced!”

“Of one thing—­yes,” was the answer.  “I can understand a fellow’s kissing a pretty woman—­or a dozen if it comes to that, but I know you’re not the man to go where you’re not certain you’re wanted.”

Now Mark hesitated, thinking that he had humiliated himself almost enough.  Seeing, however, that Jimmy was hanging upon his answer, he felt compelled to belittle himself to the uttermost rather than allow the slightest obstacle to remain between Bridget and this man who appointed himself her champion.

“The truth is,” said Mark, “I—­well, I made a mistake.”

“About Bridget?” demanded Jimmy eagerly.

“Yes,” answered Mark.  “I had no shadow of an excuse.  From first to last she had never given me the remotest reason.  It was simply my own egregious stupidity.  To put it honestly, I acted like a bounder.  I’m immensely sorry, Jimmy.”