And now he was ill! It was kind of Sangster to have written, she told herself, even while she knew quite well that Jimmy had not asked him to; it would be the last thing in the world Jimmy would wish.
If he were ill, it was not because he wanted her. She drew her little figure up stiffly.
"I shan't go unless I hear again that it is serious," she said stiltedly.
"Not—go!" Gladys's voice sounded somehow blank, there was a curious expression in her eyes. After a moment she looked away. "Oh, well, you must please yourself, of course."
Christine turned to the door—she held Sangster's letter in her hand.
"Besides," she said flippantly, "I'm going over to Heston this afternoon with Mr. Kettering."
She went up to her room and shut the door. She stood staring before her with blank eyes, her pretty face had fallen again into sadness, her mouth dropped pathetically.
She opened Sangster's letter and read it through once more. Was Jimmy really ill, and was Sangster afraid to tell her, she wondered? Or was this merely Sangster's way of trying to bring them together again?
But Jimmy did not want her; even if he were dying Jimmy would not want to see her again.
If he had cared he would never have consented to this separation; if he had cared—but, of course, he did not care!