"Bridget Rosser. Her father was a novelist----" "Oh!" cried Jimmy, "you mean David Rosser. I remember that the colonel introduced me; besides, I happened to run up against him again a few months later. A man who never got his due. David Rosser had a style, you know: a little precious, perhaps, if that's a drawback. So you know his daughter! I will see that Sybil goes to see Miss Rosser. Then," said Jimmy, "I shall have a look in." CHAPTER V COLONEL FAVERSHAM Colonel Faversham came home on Wednesday evening, the day after Carrissima's visit to Upper Grosvenor Street. She was sitting alone in the drawing-room, doubtful as to the precise date of his return, when she suddenly became aware of his presence in the house. Colonel Faversham was apt to be noisy and blusterous. He had a loud voice, a rather demonstrative cough, he walked with a heavy tread, and, in fact, was generally assertive. Carrissima, not wishing to fail in her filial duty, went down-stairs to meet him in the hall, as the butler was helping him off with his thick overcoat. "Ah, Carrissima!" he exclaimed at the top of his voice, "I'm sorry I didn't wire; but, to tell you the truth, I forgot all about it. Well, how are you--quite well? Glad to see me back again, eh?" "Very glad indeed," was the dutiful answer. "That's all right. I've had dinner--if you can call it dining in the train. Where's the best fire to be found?" "You may as well come to the drawing-room," said Carrissima. "Good!" replied the colonel, and then turned to the butler. "Knight, I'll have some soda and whisky." He accompanied Carrissima up-stairs, blowing out his red cheeks and beating his cold hands together with considerable energy. Going to the fire, he stood on the hearthrug warming his palms and making perfunctory inquiries after Lawrence and Phoebe and their child. "How do you think I'm looking?" he demanded, suddenly facing Carrissima. "Splendid," she answered. "I don't think I have ever seen you looking better." "Well, I never felt better," he exclaimed, putting back his shoulders and puffing out his chest. "Never in the whole course of my life. Nobody at the hotel would believe I was anything like my age--fifty or fifty-five at the outside. Upon my soul, I can scarcely believe it myself. I can give a start to a good many youngsters yet. Not too much soda-water, Knight," he added, when the whisky and the syphon were brought in. "What's been happening while I've been away?" he asked, alone again with Carrissima. "I wonder," she suggested, "whether you remember our holiday at Crowborough some years ago?" "Remember it--of course I remember it. Do you think I'm in my dotage. You make an immense mistake. My memory was never better. I will back it against yours any day." "Then you haven't forgotten Mr. Rosser----"