employed an excellent dressmaker, and if she had hitherto been
compelled to hide her light under a bushel, she had surely only to be
seen to conquer. The important question was: Had she already succeeded
in conquering Mark Driver?

For an instant she stood gazing at Carrissima as if unable to believe
either her ears or her eyes; then with a slow, gliding movement, in
contrast with the other's more rapid, impulsive manner, she came
forward holding out both hands.

"Why, it's Carrissima, after all these many, many years!" she
exclaimed, and without a moment's hesitation kissed her cheek, just as
she had done at parting that long time ago. "How nice of you to come,"
she continued, still retaining one of her guest's hands, and leading
her to the sofa. "I suppose it was Mark who asked you," she said, as
they both sat down.

"He didn't exactly ask me," returned Carrissima. "Of course I
shouldn't have known you were in London but for him. I met him at my
brother's the other evening."

"Ah, that was the night he arrived so late for dinner," said Bridget.
"Did he get into the most dreadful scrape?"

"Anyhow," was the answer, "I suppose he was able to start to Paris the
next morning, as I haven't heard to the contrary."

"Oh yes," cried Bridget, "if he hadn't gone I should have seen him
here. Isn't it tiresome of him!"