"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."
"Five," suggested Lawrence, with his usual meticulous exactitude.
"You were not there," said Mark.
"But still," answered Lawrence, "I remember going down with father to
look at the house before he made up his mind to take it."
"I recollect Bridget perfectly well," said Carrissima in her most
cheerful tone. "Her father was David Rosser the novelist."
"He died in Paris about ten months ago," explained Mark, "and Bridget
was his only daughter."
"A rather nice-looking girl, with reddish hair!" said Phoebe.
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