"I shan't pretend that you've taken me entirely by surprise," said
Bridget.
"Surprise!" exclaimed Colonel Faversham. "No one could have shown much more plainly what he wanted. There's not much shilly-shally about me. For that matter, I made up my mind long ago——"
"Oh, but you really haven't known me very long," she suggested. "It can't be more than a month since Mark went to Paris."
"I wish," said the colonel, "he had gone to Hades!"
"I know you are horridly jealous," she continued, "because you always change the subject when I mention his name. I like Mark Driver immensely!"
"Anyhow, I want to hear you say you like me better," said Colonel
Faversham.
She stood looking at him critically—and very tantalizingly—with her head slightly on one side; and while he devoured her with his eyes, Bridget slowly took a chair.
"But why should you try to make me say what isn't true?" she demanded.
"I hope it would be," urged Colonel Faversham.
"I am not at all certain," she said quietly. "It's a vastly important question. It requires time for consideration."