Kettering looked at her curiously. He had never taken much notice of her before; he had thought her a very ordinary type; he was struck by the sudden energy and passion in her voice.
"She is not happy now, at all events," he said grimly.
She turned away and fidgeted with the wheel of the car.
"She could not very well be more unhappy than she is now," he said again bitterly.
"She would be more unhappy if she knew she had done something to be ashamed of—something she had got to hide."
He raised his eyes.
"Are you holding a brief for Challoner?" he asked.
She frowned a little.
"You know I am not; I never thought he was good enough for her. Even years ago as a boy he was utterly selfish; but—but Christine loved him then; she thought there was nobody in all the world like him; she adored him."
He winced. "And now?" he asked shortly.