"Has Jimmy often been here?" he demanded.
"Oh dear, no," she answered. "This is the first visit."
"Like his impudence! It won't be the last."
"I hope not," murmured Bridget, standing by the side of his chair.
"How many times have you met him since that afternoon at my house?"
asked Colonel Faversham.
"Only once besides to-day!"
"He took that book," was the answer, "simply for the sake of bringing
it back! I hate anything underhanded."
"But he isn't!" Bridget insisted. "He said that was his reason."
"Barefaced!" shouted the colonel. "The fact is Jimmy Clynesworth has
never been the same since his sunstroke. Bridget," he added, "I should
like to keep you entirely to myself. I should like----"
What his precise desire might be Bridget was not destined on the
present occasion to hear. He suddenly stopped in the middle of his
sentence, gazing at her with horror and alarm in his face. Covering
hers, she had incontinently broken down, and her body shook with the
violence of her sobs. Colonel Faversham found his feet so hastily that
he could not suppress an exclamation as he stooped to rub his knee.
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