"Then you know she has seen me. I think she is perfectly sweet, Mark!
She came here a few days after you went away, and asked me to go to
Grandison Square. She gave me leave to look her up as often as I
liked. I took her at her word. Oh, I assure you I feel very much at
home there." Bridget lowered her eyes, paused a moment, then raised
them again to Mark's face. "The question is," she said slowly, as if
she were carefully choosing her words, "whether I shall make it my
home--for good, you understand. I have been longing for you to come so
that I might--that I might ask your advice."

"What about?" demanded Mark, somewhat taken aback by her outspokenness.

"Oh, how dense you must be if you can't really guess," she said.

"I don't think I shall try," was the answer.

"Oh well, if you make me say it! Colonel Faversham wants me to marry
him. Now the murder is out, isn't it?"

"Almost as detestable a crime!" cried Mark. "Do you mean that he has
actually asked you----"

"If he hadn't, how should I know?" she replied. "Because there's
always the chance of a slip between the cup and the lip. Besides, even
such an unreticent person as myself couldn't possibly anticipate. I
dare say you wonder that I talk to you about it, in any case; but then,
you see, I have nobody else."

"You haven't done anything so monstrous as to accept him?" said Mark.