“Oh dear, yes,” said Bridget.  “Do let me fasten your furs!” she added, as Carrissima rose from the sofa.  “I shall return your visit as early as if you were a royal personage.  I shall love to come.”

“Number 13, Grandison Square,” said Carrissima.  “It is not very far, and I am quite alone just now.  I don’t know whether you remember my father——­”

“Very indistinctly,” answered Bridget.

“He is away at Church Stretton playing golf.”

“Then you are in the same unprotected condition as I am,” suggested Bridget.

“Oh well, I have the advantage of a peculiarly attentive brother.  Lawrence has the firm and unalterable opinion that no woman under forty is capable of looking after herself.  During my father’s absence he generally pays me a visit once every twenty-four hours, either on his way home from the Temple or after dinner.  I shall expect you before many days,” said Carrissima, and Bridget insisted on accompanying her down to the hall.

CHAPTER IV

BRIDGET AT GRANDISON SQUARE

Carrissima walked back to Grandison Square, feeling not a whit less jealous than she had set out.  There seemed, it is true, something about Bridget Rosser to which she was scarcely accustomed in her own personal friends; something difficult to describe.  It might be due to an innate ingenuousness, or, in part, to the quasi-Bohemian life she had probably lived during the last few years abroad.

There seemed to be an absence of reticence; a kind of natural freedom which assuredly had a charm of its own, although some persons might not approve of it—­Lawrence, for one!

He came to Grandison Square the same evening, entering the drawing-room still wearing his heavy overcoat.

“A bitter wind has sprung up,” he said, standing close to the fire.

“What a pity you took the trouble to turn out in it,” suggested Carrissima, always rather inclined to resent his superintendence.

“What have you been doing all day?” he asked.  “You haven’t given Phoebe a look in.”

“I went to Golfney Place this afternoon,” was the answer.

“Golfney Place——­”

“To renew my acquaintance with Bridget,” said Carrissima.

“Quite unnecessary!” retorted Lawrence.

“Far better if you had stayed away.”

“Why?” demanded Carrissima.

“Phoebe suggested going,” said Lawrence; “but I wouldn’t allow it for a moment.”

“It’s certain,” cried Carrissima, “that she is a standing example of the way not to treat a husband.  How ridiculous to form a prejudice against any one you have never even seen.”

“If she had been the sort of woman I should like my wife to call upon,” said Lawrence, “she wouldn’t have allowed Mark to see her so often.  A woman who lives alone!  Why on earth couldn’t you leave her to stew in her own juice?  I don’t wish to see my brother-in-law make an idiot of himself.”