"Upon my word, I am most awfully sorry," he replied, and turned at once to Carrissima, who was striving to hide her satisfaction on seeing his face again. Never, perhaps, during their long acquaintance, had they been so many months apart; but while Mark was in London between Christmas and his departure for the North of England, Carrissima had been on a long visit to Devonshire. "I didn't expect to meet you this evening," said Mark. "Phoebe told me in her letter last week that you were staying in Shropshire with Colonel Faversham." "So I was," returned Carrissima. "But I never had the least intention to live there for the remainder of my life." "She took us all completely by surprise," explained Phoebe, "by coming home the day before yesterday." "I really cannot understand even now," said Lawrence, "why in the world you couldn't stay to return with father!" "Oh well, it's an ill-wind that blows no one any good," cried Mark, while Carrissima sat with her eyes averted, hoping that nobody would suspect her actual object. But she had known of his intention to depart for Paris the next morning, to spend a month with his old friend Wentworth before finally settling down in London. If she had waited for Colonel Faversham's return to Grandison Square she must, obviously, have missed Mark Driver again. One of the chief purposes of Carrissima's life seemed to be the disguise of motives, concerning which she scarcely knew whether she ought to feel ashamed or not. "Well," suggested Lawrence, "we haven't heard why you didn't turn up in time." "I hope I didn't keep you waiting," said Mark, at last shaking hands with his brother-in-law. "Only half-an-hour!" "You see," Mark explained, "I dined at Belloni's." "Good gracious!" answered Lawrence, with evident annoyance, "if you could go to Belloni's, why in the world couldn't you come here as you promised?" "I meant to come," said Mark, looking somewhat embarrassed, as he glanced at Carrissima. "You see, I went to Duffield's Hotel in Craven Street direct from the station. I thought I would just potter about and smoke a pipe or so till it was time to change." "But you haven't changed!" exclaimed Lawrence, with a disapproving frown at Mark's blue serge jacket. It no doubt suited his long, athletic figure admirably; but, nevertheless, was very much out of place in present circumstances. "No, of course not," said Mark. "The fact is I altered my mind. Instead of hanging about at Duffield's, I thought I would go to Golfney Place." "What on earth for?" "Oh well, to see Bridget, you know," answered Mark, and once more he glanced at Carrissima, whose eyes met his own. CHAPTER II MARK EXPLAINS "Who is Bridget?" asked Phoebe, whereupon Mark swung round to face her, his hands thrust deep in his jacket pockets, his face slightly flushed. "Miss Rosser," he said. "You remember Bridget Rosser, Phoebe! When we stayed at Crowborough four years ago."