"Why not?" he demanded. "Why shouldn't you have a motor-car? I often wonder I've never gone in for one before now. Bridget, there are few things you shan't have when once you're my wife."
She leaned back in her chair, biting her nether lip, and every now and then glancing reflectively at the colonel, as if in hesitation.
"Such a delightful ride!" she cried a few minutes later.
"Eh—what—when?" he said.
"This morning, of course. Jimmy took me by surprise. He called for me shortly after eleven. I couldn't resist going. We went through some of the loveliest Surrey villages."
"What about lunch?" asked Colonel Faversham, with difficulty bottling up his wrath.
"Oh, we stopped at the sweetest little inn that seemed to be miles away from everywhere and everybody. Of course, we hadn't much time to spare."
That was one consolation, and Bridget's candour was another; nevertheless. Colonel Faversham found his Sunday afternoon quite spoilt, and finally left Golfney Place in a humour to make things a little uncomfortable for any one who crossed his path. He was beginning to notice that Mark Driver came to Grandison Square somewhat often, and seeing Carrissima wearing her hat and jacket a few afternoons later the colonel asked where she was going.
"I am expecting Phoebe," she answered. "Mark has taken some rooms in
Weymouth Street and we are invited to inspect them to-day."
Colonel Faversham chuckled as she left the house. Nothing could suit his purpose better! She would never, he felt certain, be content to stay at home under the new Mrs. Faversham's regime, and her own marriage would prove an admirable solution of the difficulty.