this morning where to send it on to you."

Christine's face quivered. She did not want to think of the
Sunderland; her mother had died there; it would always be associated in
her mind with the great tragedy of her life. She took the letter
hesitatingly; she did not know the writing. She waited till the
servant had gone before she opened it.

Jimmy was still turning the leaves of the railway guide feverishly. At
the shutting of the door he turned with a sigh of relief.

"A letter?" Christine was drawing the paper from its envelope; pink
paper, smelling faintly of lilies. Jimmy lit a fresh cigarette. He
walked over to the window and stood looking into the street; a horribly
respectable street it was, he thought impatiently, of good-class
houses, with windows neatly curtained and knockers carefully polished.

He was really quite anxious to kiss Christine; he was wondering whether
she, too, was anxious for him to kiss her. After a moment he turned a
little, and looked at her tentatively.

But Christine was not looking at him; she was sitting with her eyes
fixed straight in front of her, a frozen look of horror on her little
face. The letter had tumbled from her lap to the floor.

"Christine!" said Jimmy sharply. He was really alarmed; he took a big
stride over to where she sat; he shook her. "Christine--what has
happened? What is the matter?"

She looked at him then; she turned her beautiful eyes to his face, and
at sight of them Jimmy caught his breath hard.

"Oh, Christine!" he said almost in a whisper.

His thoughts sped back incongruously to a day in the years that had
gone; when he and she had been children together down in the country at
Upton House.

He had stolen a gun belonging to the Great Horatio, and they had crept
out into the woods together--he and she--to shoot rabbits, as he had
confidently told her; and instead--oh, instead they had shot
Christine's favourite dog Ruler.

All his life Jimmy remembered the broken-hearted look in Christine's
eyes when she flung herself down by the fast-stiffening body of her
favourite. And now she was looking like that again; looking at him as
if he had broken her heart--as if---- Jimmy Challoner backed a step;
his face had paled.

"In God's name, what is it--what is it?"

And then he saw the letter lying there on the floor between them in all
its brazen pinkness. The faint scent of lilies was wafted to his brain
before he stooped and grabbed it