"Jimmy!" There was such depths of bitterness in Christine's voice that the elder girl stared.
"Jimmy! He wouldn't care what I did, or what became of me. I—I—I'm never going to live with him any more."
Gladys opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again.
She had guessed that there had been something behind that urgent wire from Jimmy, but she wisely asked no questions. They went back into the house together.
"You'll have to know in the end, so I may as well tell you now," Christine said hopelessly. She sat down on the rug by the fire, a forlorn little figure enough in her black frock.
She told the whole story from beginning to end. She blamed nobody; she just spoke as if the whole thing had been a muddle which nobody could have foreseen or averted.
Gladys listened silently. She was a very sensible girl; she seldom gave an impulsive judgment on any subject; but now——
"Jimmy wants his neck wrung," she said vehemently.
Christine looked up with startled eyes.
"Oh, how can you say such a thing!"