e felt somehow
as if they were both taking a mean advantage of Christine; he felt as
if he had tried to force her hand; he was sure she did not wish to come
back to him, but he was sure, too, that because in her heart she
thought it her duty to do so, he would not return to London alone that
night.

Nobody spoke for a moment; Jimmy was afraid to look round, then
Christine said slowly:

"Very well, what train are we to go by?"

Her voice sounded a little expressionless; Jimmy could not look at her.

"Any train you like," he said jerkily. "My time is yours--anything you
want . . . you have only to say what you would like to do."

A few weeks ago she would have been so happy to hear him speak like
that, but now the words seemed to pass her by.

"We may as well have dinner first, and go by a fast train," she said.
"I hate slow trains. Will you--will you pack some things for me?" She
looked at Gladys.

"Of course." Gladys turned to the door, and Christine followed her,
leaving Jimmy alone.

He did not move; he stood staring down at the cheery fire, his elbow
resting on the mantleshelf.

He wished now that he had not asked this of his wife; he wished he had
braved the situation out and received the full vent of the Great
Horatio's wrath alone. Christine would think less of him than ever for
being the first to make overtures of peace; he could have kicked
himself as he stood there.

Kettering loomed in the background of his mind with hateful
persistence; Kettering had looked at Christine as if--as if---- Jimmy
roused himself with a sigh; it was a rotten world--a damned rotten
world.

Upstairs Gladys was packing a suit-case for Christine, and talking
about every conceivable subject under the sun except Jimmy.

Christine sat on the side of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. She
took no interest in the proceedings, she hardly seemed to be listening
to her friend's chatter.

Suddenly she broke into a remark Gladys was making:

"You really think I am doing the right thing, Gladys?"

Gladys sat back on her heels and let a little silk frock she had been
folding fall to the floor. She looked at the younger girl with
affectionate anxiety.

"Yes, I do," she said seriously. "Things would never have got any
better as they were. It's perfectly true, in my opinion, that if you
don't see a person for a long time you don't care whether you ever see
him again or not, and--and I should hate you and Jimmy to--t