Christine felt wonderfully light-hearted all at once; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed. Kettering hardly looked at her at all. It made him afraid because he was so glad to be with her once more; he knew now how right Gladys had been when she asked him not to come to Upton House again. He rushed into conversation; he told her that the weather had been awful in London, and that he had been hopelessly bored. "I know so few people there," he said. "And I kept wondering what you were——" He broke off, biting his lip.
"What I was doing?" Christine finished it for him quickly. "Well, I was sitting at the window most of the time, wondering why you didn't come and see me," she said with a laugh.
"Were you——"
She frowned a little; she looked up at him with impatient eyes.
"What is the matter? I know something is the matter; I can feel that there is. You are angry with me; you——"
"My dear child, I assure you I am not. There is nothing the matter except, perhaps I am a little—worried and—and unhappy."
He laughed to cover his sudden gravity. "Tell me about yourself and—and Jimmy. How is Challoner?"
He had never spoken to her of Jimmy before; his name had been tacitly unmentioned between them. Christine flushed; she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know; he wasn't very well last week, but I dare say he is all right again now." Her voice was very flippant. In spite of himself Kettering was shocked; he hated to hear her speak like that; he had always thought her so sweet and unaffected.
"He ought to come down here for a change," he said in his most matter-of-fact tones. "Why don't you insist that he comes down here for a change? Country air is a fine doctor; he would enjoy it."
"I don't think he would; he hates the country." She spoke without looking at him. "I am sure that he is having a much better time in London than he would have here——" She broke off. "Mr. Kettering, will you come back and have tea with me?"