It was early morning, and fresh and sunny. Christine was flushed and smiling, for the moment at least there were no shadows in her eyes; she looked more like the girl who had smiled up from the stalls in the theatre to where Jimmy Challoner sat alone in his box that night of their meeting.
Jimmy had never once been mentioned between herself and this man since that first afternoon. Save for the fact that Kettering called her "Mrs. Challoner," Christine might have been unmarried.
"Gladys will think we have run away," she told him presently with a little laugh. "I told her we should be only half an hour."
"Have we been longer?" he asked surprised.
Christine looked at her watch.
"Nearly an hour," she said. "We were muddling about in the drive for ever so long, you know; and I really think we ought to go back."
"If you really think so——" He turned the car reluctantly. "I suppose you wouldn't care for a little run after lunch?" he asked carelessly. "I've got to go over to Heston. I should be delighted to take you."
"I should love it—if I can bring Gladys."
He did not answer for a moment, then:
"Oh, bring Gladys by all means," he said rather dryly.