the window and read the letter again. The only thing
about it that really struck him was its note of finality.

This was no petulantly written dismissal. She had thought it well out;
she really meant it.

He was jilted! The word stung him into life. His face flamed. A wave
of passionate anger swept over him. He was jilted! The detestable
thing for which he had always so deeply pitied other men of his
acquaintance had happened to him. He was no longer an engaged man, he
was discarded, unwanted!

For the moment he forgot the eloquent fact of Cynthia's marriage. He
only realised that she had thrown him aside--finished with him.

And he had loved her so much. He had never cared a hang for any other
woman in all his life in comparison with the devotion he had poured at
Cynthia's feet.

He looked round the room with blank eyes. He could not believe that he
had not fallen asleep and dreamed it all. His gaze was arrested by
Cynthia's portrait on the shelf--it seemed to be watching him with
smiling eyes.

In sudden rage he crossed the room and snatched it up. He stood for a
second holding it in his hand as if not knowing what to do with it,
then he dashed it down into the fireplace. The glass splintered into
hundreds of fragments. Jimmy Challoner stood staring down at them with
passionate eyes. He hated her. She was a flirt, a coquette without a
heart.

If he could only pay her out--only let her see how utterly indifferent
he was. If only there was some other woman who would be nice to him,
and let him be nice to her, to make Cynthia jealous.

He thought suddenly of Christine Wyatt, of the little flame in her
brown eyes when last night he had reminded her of the old days at Upton
House. His vain man's heart had been stirred then. She liked him at
all events.

Mrs. Wyatt had said that she hoped they would see much of him while
they were in London. If he chose, he knew that he could be with them
all day and every day. Cynthia would get to hear of it, Cynthia would
know that he was not wearing the willow for her. He would not even
answer her letter. He would just keep away--walk out of her life.

For a moment a sort of desolation gripped him. He had been so proud of
her, thought so much of their future together; made such wonderful
plans for getting round the Great Horatio; and now--it was all
ended--done for!

His careless face fell into haggard lines, but the next instant he got
a fresh grip