Christine was sitting on the trunk that he had occupied so recently; Mrs. Braddock was nowhere in sight.
"David," she said slowly, as he drew up panting, "they did not go to the side-show."
He was spared the necessity of an answer by the providential return of the girl's mother. She came in alone from the main tent. A glance showed them both that she had been crying. Christine sprang forward with a little cry and slipped her arm through her mother's.
As they passed by David the mother's stiff, tense lips were moving painfully. He heard her say, as if to herself:
"I cannot—I will not endure it any longer. I cannot, my child."
David stood before her the next instant, his face writhing with fury, his hands clenched.
"Is—is there anything I can do, Mrs. Braddock? Tell me! Can I do anything for you?" he cried.
She stared for a moment, as if bewildered. Then her face lightened. The tears sprang afresh to her eyes.
"No, David," she said gently. "There is nothing you can do."
"But if there should be anything I can do—" he went on imploringly. She shook her head and smiled.