On the contrary, as he shaved the following morning,
cutting his chin rather badly, he told himself that if only Bridget
would consent to marry him, every other consideration might go to limbo!
By eleven o'clock he was waiting in the sitting-room at Number 5,
Golfney Place. Until her appearance he walked restlessly from the
fireplace to the farthest window, stopping to look at the uninviting
oleographs on the wall, inspecting the row of David Rosser's novels
which filled the hanging shelf.
Colonel Faversham was in an unstable mood this morning. Why couldn't
Bridget come? She must know by this time that he detested waiting!
Every other minute he glanced at the door, and at last when she entered
breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"What a very early bird!" she cried, coming towards him in her
graceful, unhurried way.
"I want to catch the---- No, no," he said, "that won't do! You didn't
tell me you had seen Mark Driver!" he added, holding her hand.
"Didn't I?" was the casual answer. "But why should I? You surely
don't imagine for a moment I tell you everything! How deeply
astonished you would be! What an amusing disillusionment!"
"Why should it be?" he demanded.
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