Perhaps, in all her frivolous, selfish life, Christine had never had a bigger moment than the one that followed. She could have said nothing, and, in the queer way that life goes, K. might have gone away from the Street as empty of heart as he had come to it.
“Be very good to him, Sidney,” she said unsteadily. “He cares so much.”
CHAPTER XXX
K. was being very dense. For so long had he considered Sidney as unattainable that now his masculine mind, a little weary with much wretchedness, refused to move from its old attitude.
“It was glamour, that was all, K.,” said Sidney bravely.
“But, perhaps,” said K., “it's just because of that miserable incident with Carlotta. That wasn't the right thing, of course, but Max has told me the story. It was really quite innocent. She fainted in the yard, and—”
Sidney was exasperated.
“Do you want me to marry him, K.?”
K. looked straight ahead.