out of your life once and for all."

"It's all very fine for you to talk . . . things are not forgotten so
quickly. She's done with me--I told you so--and . . . oh, why the
devil can't you mind your own business?"

CHAPTER VII

LOVE AND POVERTY

But in spite of his fine sounding words, Jimmy had not done with her,
and the next afternoon--having shaken off Sangster, who looked in to
suggest a stroll--he went round to Cynthia Farrow's flat.

She was not alone; half a dozen theatrical people, most of whom Jimmy
knew personally, were lounging about her luxuriously furnished boudoir.
They were all cheery people, whom Jimmy liked well enough as a general
thing, but to-day their chatter bored him; he hardly knew how to
contain himself for impatience. He made up his mind that he would stay
as long, and longer than they did--that wild horses should not drag him
away till he had spoken with Cynthia alone.

She was very kind to him. It might have struck a disinterested
observer that she was a little afraid of him--a little anxious to
propitiate him; but none of these things crossed Jimmy's mind.

He adored her, and she knew it; he would do anything in the world for
her, and she must know that too. Why, then, should she be in the very
least afraid of him?

He found himself talking to an elderly woman with dyed hair, who had
once been a famous dancer. She was pleasant enough company, but she
had not yet realised that her youth was a thing of the past. She ogled
Jimmy as if she had been eighteen, and simpered and giggled like a girl.

She was the last of them all to leave. It struck Jimmy that Cynthia
had purposely asked her to stay, but he could not be sure. Anyway, it
did not matter to him. He meant to stay there all night or until he
had spoken with her alone.

As soon as the door had closed on the rustling skirts of the dancer's
juvenile frock, Jimmy rushed over to where Cynthia was sitting.

She was smoking a cigarette. She threw it pettishly into the fire as
he dropped on his knees beside her.

"Cynthia," said Jimmy Challoner hoarsely, "aren't you--aren't you just
a little bit pleased to see me?" It was a very boyish appeal;
Cynthia's face softened before it. She laid a hand for a moment on his
shoulder.

"I am always pleased to see you, Jimmy; you know that. I hope we shall
always be friends, even though--even though----"

Jimmy caught her hand and covered it with kisses.

"Darling!"

Sh