"When—when is Horatio coming?" Christine asked him presently.
"I don't know for certain. The cable said Monday, but it may be later or even earlier."
She looked at him. His shoulders were drooping, his face turned away from her.
There was an agony of indecision in her heart. She did not want to make things harder for him than was absolutely necessary; and yet she clung fast to her pride—the pride that seemed to be whispering to her to refuse—not to give in to him. She stared into the fire, her eyes blurred still with tears.
"I suppose he'll stop your allowance if he knows?" she said at last, with an odd little mirthless laugh.
Jimmy flushed.
"I wasn't thinking of that," he said quickly. "I don't care a hang what he does; but—but—well, I would have liked him to think things were all right between us, anyway."
He waited a moment. "Of course, if you can't," he said then, jaggedly, "if you feel that you can't I'll tell him the truth. It will be the only way out of it."
A second honeymoon! Christine's own words seemed to ring in her ears mockingly.
She had never had a honeymoon at all yet. That week in London had been only a nightmare of tears and disillusionment and heartbreak. If it meant going through it all again——