of himself. He would show her, he would let her see that
he was no weakling, no lovelorn swain pleading for denied favours. He
squared his shoulders. He took up his hat and went into the street
again. He called a taxi and gave the address of the hotel where
Christine and her mother were staying.

CHAPTER III

THE TWO WOMEN

Christine was just crossing the hall of the hotel when Jimmy Challoner
entered it. She saw him at once, and stood still with a little flush
in her face.

"I was just thinking about you," she said. "I was just wondering if
you would come and see us to-day; somehow I didn't think you would."

She spoke very simply and unaffectedly. She was genuinely pleased to
see him, and saw no reason for hiding it. "Have you had lunch?" she
asked. "Mother and I are just going to have ours."

If he had given way to his own inclinations he would have gone without
lunch--without everything. He was utterly wretched. The kindness of
Christine's eyes brought a lump to his throat. He did not want her to
be kind to him. She was not the woman he wanted at all. Why, oh, why
was he here when his heart was away--God alone knew where--with Cynthia!

What was she doing? he was asking himself in an agony, even while he
followed Christine across the hall to the dining-room; had she really
meant him to accept that note of dismissal as final? or had it just
been written in a moment of petulance?

He had not meant to think about her; he had vowed to put her out of his
thoughts for ever, to let her see that he would not wear the willow for
her; and yet--oh, they were all very well, these fine resolves, but
when a chap was utterly--confoundedly down and out----

He found himself shaking hands with Christine's mother.

"Jimmy hasn't had any lunch," Christine was saying. "So I asked him to
have some with us."

Her voice sounded very gay; the little flush had not died out of her
cheeks.

"I am very pleased you have come," said Christine's mother. She shook
hands with Jimmy, and smiled at him with her mother-eyes.

Jimmy wished they would not be so kind to him. It made him feel a
thousand times more miserable.

When he began to eat he was surprised to find that he was really
hungry. A glass of wine cheered him considerably; he began to talk and
make himself agreeable. As a matter of course, they talked about the
old days at Upton House; Jimmy began to remember things he had almost
forgotten; there