I've heard for a long time," he exclaimed. "Let us
hope we've all seen the last of her."

Lawrence found points of interest in the situation. If, as Carrissima
insisted, Colonel Faversham had been in the habit of making Bridget
frequent presents, and had now received them back, surely matters must
have advanced farther than anybody believed. There was something
formal about such a restitution, and perhaps they had even more than
they knew to feel thankful for.

He took Phoebe to Grandison Square after dinner on Sunday evening in
order to observe for himself the change in Colonel Faversham's
demeanour, at which Carrissima had hinted. Certainly the colonel had
not much to say even concerning the progress of the Parliament Bill
through the House of Commons, and presently Lawrence skilfully
introduced Bridget's name.

"By the bye," he asked, turning to Carrissima, "you haven't discovered
Miss Rosser's address yet?"

"I haven't tried," was the answer, as Colonel Faversham's cough became
troublesome.

"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. She was convinced of one fact at the least. She had counted
her chicks before they were hatched; it appeared impossible, in the
face of what she had witnessed, that Mark could entertain the shadow o