A PROPOSAL

"Has Colonel Faversham returned?" asked Carrissima when Knight opened
the door.

"The colonel is in the smoking-room," was the answer, and she went
there at once. He was leaning back in an easy-chair, with his feet on
the fender, a cigar between his lips, and an unusually benignant
expression on his face.

"Well, Carrissima," he inquired amicably, "where have you sprung from?"

"I went to Charteris Street," she returned. "What have you been doing
since eleven?"

"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."