things were always difficult at first; that Jimmy was really one of the
best; that if only she would have a little patience, everything would
come right; he was sure of it.

But she only shook her head.

"I ought to have known; I can't think now why it is that I never
guessed," she said hopelessly. "All the other women he has known are
so much better than I am."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't say that," he broke out; there was a sort
of horror in his face as he contrasted Cynthia and her friends to this
girl. "You're ill and run down," he went on urgently. "Everything
seems wrong when you're not well. Will you come out with me? It's not
raining now, and the air's beautifully fresh. I'm longing for a walk
myself; I've been writing all the morning. We'll have some lunch
together, and walk in the park afterwards, shall we?"

He thought she was going to refuse; she shook her head.

"Please do," he urged. "I want to talk to you; there are so many
things I want to say to you." He waited a moment. "You told me once
that you liked me," he submitted whimsically. "You've not gone back on
that, have you?"

The ghost of a smile lit her eyes.

"No, but----"

"Then please come."

There was a moment's silence.

"Very well," said Christine. Her voice was quite apathetic. He knew
that she was absolutely indifferent as to where she went or what she
did. She looked so broken--just as if someone had wiped the sunshine
out of her life with a ruthless hand.

She went away to dress, and Sangster stood at the window, frowning into
the street.

"Infernal young fool!" he said savagely after a moment; but whether he
referred to a youth who was just at that moment passing, or to Jimmy
Challoner, seemed uncertain.

CHAPTER XIII

CHRISTINE HEARS THE TRUTH

Sangster took Christine to a little out-of-the-way restaurant, where he
knew there would not be many people.

He carefully avoided referring again to Jimmy; he talked of anything
and everything under the sun to try and distract her attention. She
had declared that she was not hungry; but, to his delight, she ate
quite a good lunch. She liked the restaurant; she had never been in
Bohemia before. She was very interested in an old table Sangster
showed her, which was carved all over with the signatures of well-known
patrons of the house. A little flush crept into her pale cheeks;
presently she was smiling.

Sangster was cheered; he told himself that she