Jimmy flushed scarlet.
"I haven't deserved that," he said.
Christine laughed—a hard little laugh, strangely unlike her.
"I am not so sure," she answered.
They had turned into Regent Street now. A flower-girl thrust a bunch of scented violets into Jimmy's face.
"Buy a bunch for the pretty lady, sir."
Jimmy smiled involuntarily. He looked at Christine.
"May I buy them for you?" He did not wait for her answer; he gave the girl a shilling.
Christine took the flowers indifferently. She kept marvelling at herself. It seemed impossible that she was the same girl who had once walked these very streets with Jimmy, her heart beating fast with happiness. Then, had he given her a bunch of violets, she would have thrilled at the little gift; but now—she tucked them carelessly into the front of her coat. She did not notice when presently they fell out; but Jimmy had seen, and there was a curiously hurt look in his eyes.
They walked through the park. Jimmy met several people he knew; he raised his hat mechanically, making no attempt to stop and speak.