loured hotly; he felt an uncontrollable longing to kick
himself; he kissed her again with furtive haste.

"That's all right, dear," he said.

They had arranged to stay a week in London.

Christine liked London. "And we couldn't very well do anything very
much, could we?" So she had appealed to him wistfully. "When
mother----" She had not been able to go on.

Jimmy had agreed hastily to anything; he had chosen a very quiet and
select hotel, and taken a suite of rooms. He did not know how on earth
they were going to be paid for; he was counting on an extra cheque from
the Great Horatio as a wedding present. He was relieved when the taxi
stopped at the hotel; he got out with a sigh; he turned to give his
hand to Christine; his heart smote him as he looked at her.

Sangster was right when he had called her "such a child." She looked
very young as she stood there in the afternoon sunshine, in her black
frock, and with her white flowers clasped nervously in both hands.
Jimmy felt conscious of a lump in his throat.

"Come along, dear," he said very gently; he put his hand through her
arm. They went into the hotel together.

Christine went upstairs with one of the maids. Jimmy said he would
come up presently for tea; he went into the smoking-room and rang for a
brandy and soda. For the first time in his life he was genuinely
afraid of what he had done; he knew now that he cared nothing for
Christine. It was a terrifying thought.

And she had nobody but him--the responsibility of her whole life lay on
his shoulders; it made him hot to think of it.

He tossed the brandy and soda off at a gulp. He looked at his watch;
half-past four. They had been married only two hours; and he had got
to spend all the rest of his life with her.

Poor little Christine--it was not her fault. He had asked her to marry
him; he meant to be good to her. A servant came to the door.

"Mrs. Challoner said would I tell you that tea is served upstairs in
the sitting-room, sir."

Jimmy squared his shoulders; he tried to look as if there had been a
Mrs. Challoner for fifty years; but the sound of Christine's new name
made his heart sink.

"Oh--er--thanks," he said as carelessly as he could. "I'll go up." He
waited a few moments, then he went slowly up the stairs, feeling very
much as if he were going to be executed.

He stood for a moment on the landing outside the door of the private
sitting-room, with an absurdly schoolboyi