Yes," he said in a stifled voice. "If I'd only seen the accursed
thing--but I didn't; she opened it, and then----" There was a long
pause before he went on again jerkily. "I did my best--even then--but
she wouldn't believe me; she doesn't believe me now. I swore that I'd
never see Cynthia again; I swore that I'd do anything in the whole
world she wanted----"

"Except the one thing which you cannot do, I suppose," Sangster
interposed quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Love her," said Sangster. "That's what I mean."

Jimmy tried to laugh; It was a miserable failure. "She's hardly spoken
to me since," he went on, after a moment, wretchedly. "I've--oh, I've
had a devil of a time these last two days, I can tell you. I can't get
her to come out with me--she hardly leaves her room; she just cries and
cries," he added with a sort of weariness. "Just keeps on saying she
wants her mother--she wants her mother."

"Poor little girl."

"Yes--that's how I feel," said Jimmy. "It's--it's perfectly rotten,
isn't it? And she looks so ill, too. . . . What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Well, then, I wish to God you would," said Jimmy with sudden rage.
"I'm about fed-up with life, I can tell you----" He broke off. "Oh, I
don't mean that; but I'm worried to death. I--what the devil _can_ I
do?" he asked helplessly.

Sangster did not know how to answer; he sat staring down at the worn
toes of his carpet slippers and thinking of Christine.

She was such a child, and she loved Jimmy so much. It made his heart
ache to think of the shy happiness he had always read in her eyes
whenever she looked at Jimmy.

"Of course, I shouldn't have told you, only I know you won't say a
word," said Jimmy presently. "I--I stood it as long as I could; I
stood it till I felt as if I should go mad, and then I bolted off here
to you. . . . She's got nobody but me, you see." He drew a long
breath. "I only wish to God Mrs. Wyatt were alive," he added earnestly.

Sangster said nothing. "I wondered if, perhaps, you'd go round and see
her, old chap," Jimmy jerked out then. "She likes you. Of course, you
needn't say you'd seen me. Couldn't you 'phone up or something? Get
her to go out. . . . She'll die if someone can't rouse her."

Sangster coloured.

"I--I'm not good at that sort of thing, Jimmy. It's not that I'm
unwilling to help you; I'd do anything----"

"Well, then, try it; there's a good chap. You--you were so