"You ought to get Mark to give you something for it," suggested
Lawrence, and the colonel was explaining that it was merely a tickling
in his throat, when, opportunely, Mark Driver entered the room.
During his hospital days, he would often look in at Grandison Square on
Sunday evenings, and just now he felt a greater longing for
Carrissima's society than ever in his life before, as one may pine for
a cooling draught on the morning following a night's carouse.
"Ah!" exclaimed Lawrence, "here's the man who may be able to enlighten
us."
"What about?" asked Mark, as he shook hands with one after another.
"The bird that's flown," said Lawrence, with a laugh.
"Who's that?"
"Bridget," Carrissima explained, "has gone away from Golfney Place."
"And left no address!" cried her brother.
Carrissima, having now recovered her usual common-sense, did not for a
moment imagine that Mark's astonishment was counterfeited. She felt
certain that his inquiries were perfectly sincere, bewildered as she
still remained whenever she thought of his conduct that afternoon of
disillusion.
She had dropped back into the habit which had prevailed so long, and
was once more regulating her demeanour with a fervent desire to
deceive.
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