She did not know why she was crying; she only knew that she felt lonely and unhappy. She would have given the world just then for someone to come in and put kind arms round her. She would have given the world to know that there was someone to whom she really mattered, really counted.
Jimmy only wanted her because he realised that she no longer wanted him. The wedding ring of which she had been so proud was now an unwelcome fetter of which she would never again be free.
They went to the theatre in the evening. Jimmy had take great pains to make himself smart; it was almost pathetic the efforts he made to be bright and entertaining. He told her that he had sent a note to Sangster to meet them afterwards for supper. It gave him a sharp pang of jealousy to notice how Christine's eyes brightened.
"I am so glad," she said. "I like him so much."
She was almost friendly to him after that. Once or twice he made her laugh.
He was very careful to keep always to impersonal subjects. He behaved just as if they were good friends out for an evening of enjoyment. When they left the theatre Christine looked brighter than he had seen her for weeks. Jimmy was profoundly grateful. He was delighted that Sangster should see her with that little flush in her cheeks. She did not look so very unhappy, he told himself.
Sangster was waiting for them when they reached the supper-room. He greeted Christine warmly. He told her jokingly that he had got his dress-suit out of pawn in her honour. He looked very well and happy. The little supper passed off cheerily enough. It was only afterwards, when they all drove to the hotel where Christine was staying, that Sangster blundered; he held a hand to Jimmy when he had said good night to Christine.
"Well, so long, old chap."
Jimmy flushed crimson.
"I'm not staying here. Wait for me; I'm coming along."