nto them--oh dear! I have had such experiences! During the
last few months of poor father's life we lived in an _appartement_ in
Paris, and afterwards I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I
kept it on for myself. I used to go to Ronseau's studio--you've heard
of Ronseau?--till he convinced me it wasn't of the slightest use to
persevere. Then I came to London and soon began to wish I hadn't.
Because I did know ever so many people in Paris, but over here I can't
tell you how deadly dull it was until I met Mark."

"You must come and see me as soon as you can," suggested Carrissima.

"Oh dear, yes," said Bridget. "Do let me fasten your furs!" she added,
as Carrissima rose from the sofa. "I shall return your visit as early
as if you were a royal personage. I shall love to come."

"Number 13, Grandison Square," said Carrissima. "It is not very far,
and I am quite alone just now. I don't know whether you remember my
father----"

"Very indistinctly," answered Bridget.

"He is away at Church Stretton playing golf."

"Then you are in the same unprotected condition as I am," suggested
Bridget.

"Oh well, I have the advantage of a peculiarly attentive brother.
Lawrence has the firm and unalterable opinion that no woman under forty
is capable of looking after herself. During my father's absence he
generally pays me a visit once every twenty-four hours, either on his
way home from the Temple or after dinner. I shall expect you before
many days," said Carrissima, and Bridget insisted on accompanying her
down to the hall.

CHAPTER IV

BRIDGET AT GRANDISON SQUARE

Carrissima walked back to Grandison Square, feeling not a whit less
jealous than she had set out. There seemed, it is true, something
about Bridget Rosser to which she was scarcely accustomed in her own
personal friends; something difficult to describe. It might be due to
an innate ingenuousness, or, in part, to the quasi-Bohemian life she
had probably lived during the last few years abroad.

There seemed to be an absence of reticence; a kind of natural freedom
which assuredly had a charm of its own, although some persons might not
approve of it--Lawrence, for one!

He came to Grandison Square the same evening, entering the drawing-room
still wearing his heavy overcoat.

"A bitter wind has sprung up," he said, standing close to the fire.

"What a pity you took the trouble to turn out in it," suggested
Carrissima, always rather inclin