. I suppose we can't get unmarried,
can we?" she said with a little quivering laugh. "But--but at least we
need never be anything more than--than friends----"

Jimmy was very white; Christine had spoken so quietly, so decidedly,
they were not angry words, not even deliberately chosen to hurt him,
they sounded just final!

He caught her hand.

"Oh, my God, you don't mean that, Christine, you're just saying it
to--to punish me, just to--to--pay me out. You don't really mean
it--you don't mean that you've forgotten all the old days, you don't
mean that you don't care for me any more--that you never will care for
me again. I can't bear it. Oh, for God's sake say you don't mean
that."

There was genuine anguish in his voice now, and in his eyes, but
Christine was not looking at him, she was only remembering that he had
once loved another woman desperately, passionately, and that because
that woman was no longer living he wished to transfer his affections;
she kept her eyes steadily before her, as she answered him:

"I am sorry, I don't want to hurt you, but--but I am afraid that--that
is what I do mean."

There was a moment of absolute silence. She did not look at Jimmy; she
was only conscious of the fierce desire in her heart to hurt him, to
make him feel, make him suffer as he had once made her suffer in the
days that seemed so far away now and dead that she could look back with
wonderment at herself for the despair she had known then.

She was glad that she no longer suffered; glad that she had lost her
passionate love for him in this numbed indifference. She wondered if
he really felt her words, or if he were only pretending.

Once he had pretended to her so well that she had married him; now, as
a consequence, she found herself suspecting him at every turn, doubting
him whenever he spoke.

The train shot into a tunnel, and Christine caught her breath. She
shrank a little farther away from Jimmy in the darkness, but she need
not have feared. Seeing her instinctive movement he rose at once and
walked away to the other side of the carriage. He hardly spoke to her
again till they reached London.

It was late then. Christine felt tired, and her head ached. She asked
no more questions as to where they were going or what he proposed to do
with her. She followed him into the taxi. She did not hear what
directions he gave to the driver. It seemed a very little while before
they stopped, and Jimmy was