"It must be nearly eight o'clock," she remarked, as she rose from her
chair a few minutes later, going at once to look in the mirror which
formed part of the overmantel.
"Carrissima," said Mark, "I begin to suspect----"
"What?" she demanded.
"That this must be a put-up job!"
"Oh, but Bridget would never dream of such a thing," said Carrissima.
"I should be rather sorry to say what she wouldn't be capable of.
Anyhow," Mark added, "it would be a pity to spoil a good intention!
You haven't said you will be my wife, you know."
"I--I fancied that I had," she was answering, when there arose a noise
outside the drawing-room as if some one had violently knocked over a
metal tray.
By the time the door opened, Carrissima was seated in the easy-chair
gazing at the fire, while Mark stood at the farther side of the small
room with one of David Rosser's novels (hastily snatched from a side
table) in his hand.
Enter Bridget, accompanied by Jimmy and looking her best in what might
have been her wedding dress.
"So immensely sorry!" she cried, hastening forward as Carrissima rose.
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