“Bless me!” he exclaimed, with something of his former energy, “you seem to want to make me look like an infernal invalid.  Thank goodness I haven’t got to that yet by a long shot.  Molly-coddling a man in this way!”

“I don’t see much use in wearing a scarf if you tuck it down beneath your coat,” said Carrissima.

“Who wants to wear one?” he demanded, pulling it off and flinging it on to the hall table.  “I won’t wear it.  I won’t be bothered and interfered with!”

He selected a walking-stick from the stand, but when Carrissima opened the door for him, returned to exchange it for an umbrella; at last, setting forth at a quarter to twelve, walking rather slowly in the direction of his club.  As he made his way along Piccadilly Colonel Faversham came almost to a standstill.  Good heavens! that must be Bridget coming towards him.  He fixed his eye-glass and saw that he had not make a mistake; in fact, it was difficult to be mistaken.  She was as becomingly dressed as ever, and carried an enormous muff, with a great many of some small animals’ tails depending from it.

Colonel Faversham’s thoughts at once flew back to that last time he had seen her in Golfney Place, when he had insisted that she should name the date for their marriage—­a week or two hence, as he had egregiously hoped!  And she had seemed to promise that she would gratify him when he came the following morning, and he arrived with exuberant anticipations only to find the bird flown!  Everything stood out clearly in his mind, and now that she was within a few yards he wished he had not passed Half Moon Street, so that he might have slipped down the turning in order to avoid a meeting.

Had he done so in all probability Bridget would have pursued him!  Quickening her pace she bore down upon the colonel with her right hand outstretched, while with the left she held the enormous muff.  He had no alternative; it seemed inevitable that he should meet her half-way.  Although he had always admired her, she had never appeared quite so enticing as this dull November morning; looking into his face with merry eyes, while yet the corners of her mouth were drawn down as if to express the penitence, which he knew that no one in the world could have been farther from feeling.

“Oh, Colonel Faversham, how delighted I am to see you again!” she cried, and the provoking part of it was that he could not avoid a sensation of pleasure on seeing her at closer quarters.  He did not imagine for an instant that she wished to see him, although for the time her manner might carry conviction.  “I have positively been longing to meet you,” said Bridget.

“It is very kind to say so,” muttered Colonel Faversham.

“And,” she continued, with her eyes on his face, “how splendidly well you are looking!”

“Ah, you think I am?” he answered.  “Well, thank Heaven, I feel pretty well.  How long have you been in London?” he asked rather hastily, because no one could feel more anxious to omit any allusion to the painful past.