"What have I been doing?" said Colonel Faversham, rubbing his palms violently together. "Well, now, to tell you the truth, I've been out on the spree! Such a glorious day! I couldn't resist the temptation. A man at the club—I don't think you know him—Comberbatch—asked me to share a taxi and run down to Richmond to lunch. Delightful in the park. And the view from the Terrace! It made me long to go on the river again."
"Why—why didn't you?" Carrissima faltered.
"Come, come, what are you dreaming of?" said Colonel Faversham, with one of his boisterous laughs. "Picture my rowing in these clothes: a frock coat!"
"Oh well," she returned, "I scarcely imagined you would row yourself."
"Not row myself!" he exclaimed. "Why shouldn't I, in the name of goodness? Let me tell you I can pull a good oar still. If only I had had my flannels! You seem to think I'm fit for nothing."
Colonel Faversham astonished Carrissima by rising from his chair and taking off his coat. Removing the links from his shirt-cuff, he solemnly turned back the sleeve, then clenching his fist, slowly raised his forearm, looking the while so red in the face that she grew quite alarmed.
"Feel that!" he said.
"I will take your word for it——"
"Kindly do as I ask you," he insisted, with his arm still bent. "I can't stand like this all day."
Carrissima accordingly felt his biceps with her thumb and forefinger.