sh air of bashfulness.

He passed a hand nervously over the back of his head; he wriggled his
collar; twice he took a step forward and stopped again; finally the
appearance of a servant along the corridor drove him to make up his
mind. He opened the door with a rush.

Christine was standing over by the window; the afternoon sunshine fell
on her slim, black-robed figure and brown hair. She turned quickly as
Jimmy Challoner entered.

"Tea has been up some minutes; I hope it's not cold."

"I like it cold," said Jimmy.

As a matter of fact, he hated tea at any time, and never drank it if it
could be avoided; but he sat down with as good a grace as he could
muster, and took a cup from her hand with its new ring--his ring.
Jimmy Challoner glanced at it and away again.

"Nice room this--eh?" he asked.

"Yes." Christine had sugared her own cup three times without knowing
it; she took a cake from the stand, and dropped it nervously. Jimmy
laughed; a boyish laugh of amusement that seemed to break the ice.

"Anyone would think you had never seen me before," he said, with an
attempt to put her at her ease. "And I've known you all your life!"

"I know; but----" She looked at him with very flushed cheeks. "I'm
afraid, Jimmy--afraid that you'll find you've made a mistake; afraid
that you'll find I'm too young and--silly."

"You're not to call the lady I have married rude names."

"But it's true," she faltered. She put down the cup and went over to
where he sat. She stood with her hands clasped behind her, looking
down at him with a sort of fond humility.

"I do love you, Jimmy," she said softly. "And I will--I will try to be
the sort of wife you want."

Jimmy tried to answer her, but somehow the words stuck in his throat.
She was not the sort of wife he wanted, and never would be. That
thought filled his mind. All the willingness in the world could not
endow her with Cynthia's eyes, Cynthia's voice, Cynthia's caressing way
of saying, "Dear old boy."

He choked back a big sigh; he found Christine's hand and raised it to
his lips.

"We shall get along swimmingly," he said with an effort. "Don't you
worry your little head."

But she was not satisfied.

"I must be so different from all the other women you are used to," she
told him wistfully. "I'm not smart or amusing--and I don't dress as
well as they do."

Jimmy smiled.

"Well, one can always buy clothes," he said. A sudden wave of
tenderness swe