"Good-afternoon, Miss Rosser," cried Colonel Faversham. "Pray come in!
You wish to see Carrissima! I assure you she will be immensely
disappointed if you refuse to wait. I may mention that I had the
pleasure of knowing your father."
"Oh, I remember you perfectly," she replied. "As well as if it were
yesterday."
"Come this way, come this way," he insisted, replacing his hat on the
table as she entered the hall. "Carrissima would never forgive me.
She was talking about you before I had been in the house ten
minutes----"
"But you were just going out," she expostulated. "You mustn't let me
take you up-stairs again."
"Stairs are nothing to me," he said. "I could climb a mountain. I
have climbed many a one before to-day, and I hope I shall again. What
delightful weather!" he continued, as they reached the drawing-room.
"It makes one feel quite--quite capable of anything."
She sat down, while the colonel talked about Crowborough and David
Rosser; remembering whose vocation, he realized the desirability of
giving the conversation a bookish turn. While he was remarking upon
some of the most recent publications--quoted from advertisements, for
he seldom opened a book--Knight and a small footman brought in the tea
equipage.
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