to London, he had gone off and left her.

She did not choose to believe that he had really done so because he
thought she would prefer it. She felt lonely and deserted; tears
welled into her eyes.

"A second honeymoon!" What a farce it all was.

It seemed an eternity before the rumble of traffic sounded again in the
streets and the first grey daylight crept through the blind chinks.

She wondered what Gladys was doing, what Kettering was doing, and if he
knew that she had gone, and where.

She deliberately conjured the memory of his eyes and voice as he had
last looked at her and spoken.

Her heart beat a little faster at the memory. She knew well enough
that he loved her, and for a moment she wondered what life would be
like with him to always care for her and shield her.

He was much older than Jimmy. She did not realise that perhaps his
knowledge of women and the way in which they liked to be treated was
the result of a long apprenticeship during which he had had time to
overcome the impulsive, headlong blunderings through which Jimmy was
still stumbling.

She was up and dressed early; she had had her breakfast and was ready
to go out when Jimmy arrived. He looked disappointed. He had made an
effort and got up unusually early for him in order to be round at the
hotel before Christine could possibly expect him. He asked awkwardly
if she had slept well. She looked away from him as she answered
impatiently:

"I never sleep well in London--I hate it."

He bit his lip.

"I'm sorry. What would you like to do this morning?"

"I'm going out."

"You mean that you don't wish me to come?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders.

"Come if you wish--certainly."

They left the hotel together. It was a bright sunny morning, and
London was looking its best. Christine rushed into haphazard speech.

"Have you heard from your brother again?"

"No; I hardly expected to."

Something in the constraint of his voice made her look at him quickly.

"I suppose--I suppose he really is coming?" she said with sudden
suspicion.

Jimmy flushed scarlet.

"I haven't deserved that," he said.

Christine laughed--a hard little laugh, strangely unlike her.

"I am not so sure," she answered.

They had turned into Regent Street now. A flower-girl thrust a bunch
of scented violets into Jimmy's face.

"Buy a bunch for the pretty lady, sir."

Jimmy smiled involuntarily. He looked at Christine.

"May I buy them f