und the garden for kisses, and she had
always loved him. She felt giddy with happiness. This was a moment
she had longed for ever since that night in the suburban theatre when
she had looked up into the stage box and seen him sitting there.

Jimmy had got his arm round her now; he put his hot cheek to her soft
hair.

"Say yes, Christine," he whispered; but he did not wait for her to say
it. He could be very masterful when he chose, and with sudden
impulsive impatience he bent and kissed her.

Christine burst into tears.

He had swept her off her feet. A moment since she had never dreamed of
anything like this; and now--now her head was on Jimmy Challoner's
shoulder, and his arm round her.

"Don't cry," he said huskily. "Don't cry--I didn't mean to be a brute.
Did I frighten you?"

He was already beginning to realise what he had done. A little cold
shiver crept down his spine.

He had kissed this girl and asked her to marry him; but he did not love
her. There was something still of the old boyish affection for her in
his hearty but nothing more. Remorse seized him.

"Don't cry," he begged again with an effort. "Would you like me to go
away? . . . Oh, don't cry, dear."

Christine dried her eyes.

"It's--it's only be-because I'm so h-happy," she said on the top of a
last sob. "Oh, J-Jimmy--I do love you."

The words sounded somehow infinitely pathetic. Jimmy bit his lip hard.
His arm fell from about her waist.

"I--I'm not half good enough for you," he stammered.

He really meant that. He felt himself a perfect rotter beside her
innocent whole-hearted surrender. Christine was looking at him with
tearful eyes, though her lips smiled tremulously.

"Oh, Jimmy--what will mother say?" she whiskered. "And--and Mr.
Sangster?"

Jimmy laughed outright then. She was such a child. Why on earth
should it matter what Sangster said?

Christine did not know why she had spoken of him at all; but his kind
face had seemed to float into her mind with the touch of Jimmy's lips.
She was glad she had liked him. He was Jimmy's friend; now he would be
her friend, too.

There was an awkward silence. Jimmy made no attempt to kiss her
again--he did not even touch her.

He was thinking of the night when he had asked Cynthia to marry him.
It had been in a taxi--coming home from the theatre. In imagination he
could still smell the scent of the lilies she wore in her fur
coat--still feel the touch of her hair