that Cynthia Farrow and some of her
numerous admirers would put in an appearance; but it was not his
business, and he raised no objection.

When they entered the long room he cast a swift glance round. She was
not here yet, at all events; one could only hope that she would not
come at all.

Everything was new and wonderful to Christine. She was like a child in
her delight. She sat in a corner of one of the great, softly cushioned
sofas, and looked about her with wide eyes.

Jimmy sat beside her. Sangster had manoeuvred that he should. He and
Mrs. Wyatt were opposite.

The orchestra was playing a dreamy waltz. The long room was
brilliantly lit, and decorated with pink flowers.

Christine leaned across and squeezed her mother's hand.

"Oh, isn't it just too lovely?" she said.

Mrs. Wyatt laughed.

"You will turn Christine's head, Jimmy," she said to Challoner. "She
will find Upton House dull after all this gaiety."

Jimmy was slightly bored. It was no novelty to him. He had spent so
many nights dining and supping in similar places to Marnio's. All the
waiters knew him. He wondered if they were surprised to see him
without Cynthia Farrow. For weeks past he and she had been everywhere
together. He met Sangster's quizzical eyes; he roused himself with an
effort; he turned to Christine and began to talk.

He told her who some of the people were at the other tables. He
pointed out a famous conductor, and London's most popular comedian.
Christine was interested in everyone and everything. Her eyes
sparkled, and her usually pale face was flushed. She was pretty
to-night, if she had never been pretty before.

"I suppose you come here often?" she said. She looked up into Jimmy's
bored young face. "I suppose it's not at all new or wonderful to you?"

He smiled.

"Well, I'm afraid it isn't; you see----" He broke off; he sat staring
across the room with a sudden fire in his eyes.

A man and woman had just entered. The woman was in evening dress, with
a beautiful sable coat. Her hand was resting on the man's arm. She
was looking up at him with smiling eyes.

Jimmy caught his breath hard in his throat. For a moment the gaily lit
room swam before him--for the woman was Cynthia Farrow, and the man at
her side was Henson Mortlake.

CHAPTER VI

JIMMY DEMANDS THE TRUTH

Sangster had been sitting with his back to the door by which Cynthia
and her escort had entered. When he saw the sudden