e moved restlessly.

"Jimmy, you're such a boy." There was a hint of impatience now in her
voice. "Aren't you ever going to grow up?"

He rose to his feet and moved away from her, The momentary flash of
happiness had fallen from him; he felt very old and miserable as he
stood leaning his elbow on the mantelshelf staring down at the fire.
She no longer cared for him; something in her voice told him that as no
actual words would have done. She had not wanted him to come here
to-day. Even now she wished that he would go away and leave her. He
suddenly remembered what Sangster had said last night. He turned
abruptly, looking down at Cynthia.

She was sitting up now, looking before her with puckered brows. One
small foot tapped the floor impatiently.

Jimmy moved nearer to her.

"Do you know what they are saying in the clubs?" he demanded.

She raised her eyes, she shrugged her slim shoulders.

"They are always saying something! What is it now?"

But her voice was not so indifferent as she would have had it; her eyes
were anxious.

"They are saying that you are engaged to Mortlake."

Jimmy's eyes never left her face; it was a tragic moment for him.
Cynthia's white hands clasped each other nervously.

"Are they?" she said. "How--how very amusing."

Her eyes had fallen now; he could only see the outline of darkened
lashes against her cheek.

He waited a moment, then he strode forward--he covered the space
between them in a stride; he put a hand beneath her chin, forcing her
to look at him.

"Is it true?" he asked. "Is it true?"

His voice was strangled; his breath came tearing from between clenched
teeth.

Cynthia shivered away from him, back against the pile of silken
cushions behind her.

"Don't hurt me, Jimmy; don't hurt me," she whimpered.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her. "_Is it true--is it true?_"

For a moment he thought she was going to refuse to answer; then
suddenly she dragged herself free. She started up, and stood facing
him pantingly.

"_Yes_," she said defiantly. "_Yes, it is true_."

And then the silence fell again, long and unbroken.

It seemed an eternity to Jimmy Challoner; an eternity during which he
stood there like a man in a dream, staring at her flushed face.

The world had surely come crashing about him in ruins; for the moment,
at least, he was blind and deaf to everything.

When at last he could find his voice--

"It was all--a lie then--about