o have a
final separation, no matter what I've said, and no matter what a
selfish pig he is."

Christine smiled faintly.

"He can't _help_ not caring for me," she said.

"No, but he can help having married you," Gladys retorted
energetically. "Don't think I'm sympathising with him. I assure you
I'm not. I hope he'll get paid out no end for what he's done, and the
way he's treated you. But--but all the same, I think you ought to go
back to him."

Christine flushed.

"I hate the thought of it," she said with sudden passion. "I shall
never forget those days in London. I tried to pretend that everything
was all right when anybody was there, just so that the servants should
not see, but they all did, I know, and they were sorry for me. Oh, I
feel as if I could kill myself when I look back on it all. To think I
let him know how much I cared, and all the time--all the time he
wouldn't have minded if he'd never seen me again. All the time he was
longing for--for that other woman. I know it's horrid to talk like
that about her, but--but she's dead, and--and----" she broke off with a
shuddering little sigh.

"Things will come all right--you see," said Gladys wisely. She picked
up Christine's frock and carefully folded it. "Give him a chance,
Christine; I don't hold a brief for him, but, my word! it would be
rotten if the Great Horatio found out the truth and cut Jimmy off with
a shilling, wouldn't it? Of course, _really_ it would serve him right,
but one can't very well tell him so." She shut the lid of the case,
and rose to her feet. "There, I think that's all. It must be nearly
dinner time."

But Christine did not move.

"I wish you would come with us," she said tremblingly. "Why can't you
come with us? I shouldn't mind half so much if you were there."

Gladys glanced at her and away again.

"Now you're talking sheer rubbish," she said lightly. "You remind me
of that absurd play, _The Chinese Honeymoon_, when the bride took her
bridesmaids with her." She laughed; she took Christine's hand and
dragged her to her feet. "You might smile a little," she protested.
"Don't let Jimmy think you're afraid of him."

"I _am_ afraid. I don't want to go." Suddenly she began to cry.

Gladys's kind eyes grew anxious, she stood silent for a moment.

"I'm ever so much happier here," Christine went on. "I hate London; I
hate the horrid hotels. I'd much rather be here with you and----" she
broke off.

G