Jimmy could not help feeling sore about it. For one thing, he regretted the necessity to admit to Sybil that the false report contained that one word of truth. Worse than this! an indignity had been put on Bridget by Mark Driver, who seemed the last man in the world to inflict it. Jimmy, however, realized that one of her most potent charms was a delectable, seductive ingenuousness and irresponsibility, which might, perhaps, on occasion prove a little misleading to unregenerate man. Nevertheless, he felt sore as he left Weymouth Street.
CHAPTER XXIII
HAVING IT OUT
"Mr. Driver," announced Knight at half-past three that Monday afternoon.
Carrissima at once came to the conclusion that she had never seen him look so solemn—or quite so handsome, although she wished that he had stayed away.
"How are you, Mark?" she said, mustering a smile, however, as she held out her hand.
"I have come rather early," he answered, and Carrissima noticed that he barely touched her finger tips.
"Won't you sit down?" she suggested, returning to her own chair.
"So that I might make certain of finding you alone," continued Mark, still standing in the middle of the room.
"Well, your object is attained," she cried brightly. "Father is not at home, and I am not expecting any visitors."