“Confound the bag!” he retorted.  “If you won’t keep the thing, pitch it in the dusthole.  Bridget,” he continued, standing close by her side, “I want you to accept all I have in the world and myself into the bargain.  I am not going to blow my own trumpet.  Thank goodness I was never that sort of man!  I wish I were a boy just because you’re a girl, but if you’ll take me as I am, you’ll make me the happiest man in the world, and I’ll do my best to see you never regret it.”

“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.”

“How long, for goodness’ sake?”

“I really couldn’t possibly tell you offhand.  I shouldn’t care to bind myself.”

“I am desperately impatient to bind you, though,” answered Colonel Faversham.  “I would see to it we had a good time.  There’s no wish of yours that shouldn’t be gratified—­in reason, you know.”

“Haven’t you discovered by this time how unreasonable I am?” she asked.

“Bridget, come now, be a good girl!” he murmured.

“That shows how little you know me,” she returned, “because I’m not in the least good.”

“Well, well, call yourself what you please!  Only have a little love for me, and I don’t care what the devil you are!” exclaimed Colonel Faversham, and at that moment he meant precisely what he said.

“I am not certain I have,” she cried, with a laugh.  “You see that whatever I may be I am candid.  I don’t think I have a particle of what I suppose you mean by ‘love’ for any living being.  Perhaps there’s something wanting in my constitution.  I don’t believe I shall ever be capable of ‘loving’ anybody as long as I live.”

“Good gracious,” was the answer, “don’t tantalize me.  Why do you keep me on tenterhooks?  Say you will marry me, and we’ll leave everything else.”