"Oh, what nonsense!" said Carrissima.
"How could it be! You told me that Bridget was—was nothing to you."
"She was nothing. She is nothing."
"If that is really the case," said Carrissima, "why, then your conduct appears inexplicable."
"Why didn't you tackle me?" he demanded. "Surely you have known me long enough!"
Carrissima realized that the circumstances were against her. She had, before to-day, come to the conclusion that those first excited suspicions were entirely unjustifiable; although Mark had no doubt deceived her, he could not be so bad as she had imagined at the time. She perceived that she might find one excuse which yet she durst not mention. If she could admit plainly that the sight of Bridget in his arms made her madly jealous and for the moment unaccountable for her words, then, perhaps, Mark might be mollified. At least this defence would be true. It seemed incongruous that she instead of him should be considered the offender; but above everything Carrissima must keep back the only explanation which was likely to sound plausible.
"It was nothing to me," she said.
"Anyhow, it was a great deal to me," replied Mark. "Of course I played the fool that afternoon. I don't want to make excuses. I admit there are none. But you ought to understand that Bridget was an innocent victim. No one was to blame but myself, and I not very severely. Yet because of one act of momentary folly you could tell Sybil that monstrous story."
"Well, I am sorry," said Carrissima. "I was carried away by excitement. I suppose it's a weakness of mine! I sometimes do tell people things and repent afterwards. I don't pretend to be immaculate."
"The fact is," returned Mark, "you've always been down on Bridget. The girl is absolutely straight! What beats me is that you could meet me as usual, as if nothing had come between us, take my hand and yet believe all the time I was that sort of outsider."