"Miss Faversham," he imperturbably announced, and on the instant Mark's arms dropped to his side, and Bridget, after a glance which was overflowing with reproach, turned towards the door. "Where is Miss Faversham?" she asked in an unusually high voice, wondering that she could see no sign of a visitor. Miller, glancing aside at the landing, saw Carrissima on her knees by the balusters, engaged in picking up the scattered roses. Her back was towards the room, and she wished that her heart would not beat quite so tumultuously. "Oh, do let me help you!" suggested Bridget, going to her side, and from that instant Carrissima seemed to have only one object in life. Above all things she wished to lead both Bridget and Mark to believe that she had seen nothing out of the common! Unable at present to grasp the complete significance of the revelation which fortunately had been vouchsafed to her, she perceived, at least, that it implied the utter destruction of her own recent hopes. Nothing could be worse than the betrayal of her disillusionment: because obviously she had been the victim of a rather cruel illusion especially since yesterday. Now her _savoir faire_ became her most valuable asset. "I think I have picked them all up," she said, rising hastily to her feet, with the roses loose in her hands. "How sweet of you to come!" answered Bridget. "Mark is here, too! What lovely roses," she continued, leading the way into the sitting-room, as Miller stood on the landing. "I am sorry they are so untidy," said Carrissima, with every appearance of cheerfulness. "Are they really for me!" cried Bridget, taking the flowers and placing them on the table. "What a lovely day," said Carrissima, although it was the worst she had ever known. "Have they sent home the carpet, yet?" she added, as Mark offered his hand with some embarrassment. He was certainly the most awkward of the three; the women far surpassing him in _finesse_. "Have you been buying a carpet?" asked Bridget, as she laid the flowers on the table. "How interesting! Do, please, tell me all about it?" "For one of my rooms in Weymouth Street," answered Mark. "Have you actually taken rooms?" said Bridget. "Too bad not to tell me!" Carrissima, now prepared to recognize deception everywhere, found it difficult to look cheerful. She had no doubt that Bridget knew all about the rooms, which Mark began rather eagerly to describe. It was obvious, however, that he was impatient to get away, and Carrissima, raising her eyes abruptly, intercepted a curiously entreating glance from him to Bridget, who at once held out her hand. "Shall you be at home this evening?" he asked, turning to Carrissima the next moment.