She was fond of Christine, too. And though she had never approved of
Jimmy, she would have done a great deal to see them happy together.
It was for that reason that she now spoke of him.
"When are you going to London, Chris?"
Christine looked up; she flushed.
"Going to London! I am not going. . . . I never want to go there any more."
Gladys made no comment; she had heard the little quiver in the younger girl's voice.
Presently:
"I suppose you think I ought to go to Jimmy," Christine broke out vehemently. "I suppose you are hinting that it is my duty to go. You don't know what you are talking about; you don't understand that he cares nothing about me—that he would be glad if I were dead and out of the way. He only wants his freedom; he never really wished to marry me."
"It isn't as bad as that. I am sure he——"
"You don't know anything about him. You don't know what I went through during those hateful weeks before—before I came here. I don't care if I never see him again; he has never troubled about me. It's my turn now; I am going to show him that he isn't the only man in the world."