"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.
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