," he
said dryly. He held his hand to Gladys. "Well, good-bye," he said;
there was a little emphasis on the last word.

She just touched his fingers.

"Good-bye." She put her arm round Christine; there was something
defensive in her whole attitude.

Kettering got into the car; he did not look at Christine again. He
started the engine; presently he was driving slowly away.

"Have you two been quarreling?" Christine asked. There was a touch of
vexation in her voice; her eyes were straining through the darkness
towards the gate.

Gladys laughed.

"Quarrelling! Why ever should I quarrel with Mr. Kettering? I've
hardly spoken half a dozen words to him in all my life."

"You seemed to have a great deal to say to him, all the same,"
Christine protested, rather shortly.

They went back to the house together.

It was during dinner that night that Gladys deliberately led the
conversation round to Jimmy again.

They had nearly finished the unpretentious little meal; it had passed
almost silently. Christine looked pale and preoccupied. Gladys was
worried and anxious.

A dozen times during the past few days she had tried to decide whether
she ought to write to Jimmy or not. Her sharp eyes had seen from the
very first the way things were going with regard to Kettering, and she
was afraid of the responsibility. If anything happened--if Christine
chose to doubly wreck her life--afterwards they might all blame her;
she knew that.

She was fond of Christine, too. And though she had never approved of
Jimmy, she would have done a great deal to see them happy together.

It was for that reason that she now spoke of him.

"When are you going to London, Chris?"

Christine looked up; she flushed.

"Going to London! I am not going. . . . I never want to go there any
more."

Gladys made no comment; she had heard the little quiver in the younger
girl's voice.

Presently:

"I suppose you think I ought to go to Jimmy," Christine broke out
vehemently. "I suppose you are hinting that it is my duty to go. You
don't know what you are talking about; you don't understand that he
cares nothing about me--that he would be glad if I were dead and out of
the way. He only wants his freedom; he never really wished to marry
me."

"It isn't as bad as that. I am sure he----"

"You don't know anything about him. You don't know what I went through
during those hateful weeks before--before I came here. I don't care if