She did her best to eat some of the dinner she had ordered, but it was uphill work. Jimmy's empty chair opposite was a continual reminder of his absence. Where was he? she asked herself in an agony of doubt. With whom was he dining whilst she was here alone?
After dinner she tried to read. She sat down by the fire, and turned the pages of a magazine without really seeing a line or picture. When someone knocked at the door she started up eagerly, with flushing cheeks; but it was only the waiter with coffee and an evening paper.
She asked him an anxious question:
"Mr. Challoner has not come in yet?" She tried hard to speak as if it were nothing out of the ordinary for Jimmy to be out.
"Not yet, madam." He set down the coffee and the evening paper and went quietly away. Outside on the landing he encountered the maid who waited on Christine.
"It's a shame—that's what it is!" the girl said warmly when he told her in whispered tones that Mrs. Challoner was alone again. "A shame! and her only just married, the pretty dear!"
She wondered what Christine was doing; she hovered round the door, sympathetic and longing to be able to help, and not knowing how.
Christine had taken up the paper. She did not know how to pass the evening; the minutes seemed to be dragging past with deliberate slowness.
She looked at the clock—only eight! She waited some time, then looked again. Five past. Why, surely the clock must have stopped; surely it must be half an hour since she had last glanced at its expressionless face.
She sighed wearily.