"I promised I wouldn't—unless she asked me to. If you were anything of a sport——"
In the end Sangster consented to go. He was not anxious to undertake the journey, much as he wanted to see Christine again. At the end of the second week he went off early one morning without telling Jimmy of his intentions, and was back in town late the same night. Jimmy was waiting for him in the rooms in the unfashionable part of Bloomsbury. It struck Sangster for the first time that Jimmy was beginning to look old; his face was drawn—his eyes looked worried. He turned on his friend with a sort of rage when he entered.
"Why couldn't you have told me where you were going. Here I've been waiting about all day, wondering where you were and what was up."
"I've been to see your wife—and there's nothing up."
"You mean you didn't see her?"
"Oh, yes, I did."
"Well—well!" Jimmy's voice sounded as if his nerves were worn to rags; he could hardly keep still.
"She seemed very cheerful," said Sangster slowly. He spoke with care, as if he were choosing his words. "Miss Leighton was with her; and we all had tea together."
"At Upton House?"
"Yes."