"I am very glad you came; I"—she bit her lip—"I don't think Jimmy will be back to lunch," she said.
"Capital!" Sangster tried to speak naturally; he laughed. "Then will you come out to lunch with me? Jimmy won't mind, and——"
"Oh, no, Jimmy won't mind." There was such bitterness in her voice that for a moment it shocked him into silence; she looked at him with burning eyes. "Jimmy wouldn't mind no matter what I did," she said, almost as if the words were forced from her against her will. "Oh, Mr. Sangster, why did you let him marry me?—you must have known. Jimmy doesn't care any more for me than—than you do."
There was a tragic pause. She did not cry; she just looked at him with broken-hearted eyes.
"Oh, my dear; don't—don't say that," said Sangster in distress.
He took her hand and held it clumsily between his own. Her words had been like a reproach. Was he to blame? he asked himself remorsefully; and yet—what could he have done? Christine would not have believed him had he tried to tell her.
"It's true," she said dully. "It's true . . . and now I haven't got anybody in all the world."
Sangster did not know what to answer. He broke out awkwardly that things were always difficult at first; that Jimmy was really one of the best; that if only she would have a little patience, everything would come right; he was sure of it.
But she only shook her head.
"I ought to have known; I can't think now why it is that I never guessed," she said hopelessly. "All the other women he has known are so much better than I am."