Jimmy sat beside her. Sangster had manoeuvred that he should. He and
Mrs. Wyatt were opposite.
The orchestra was playing a dreamy waltz. The long room was brilliantly lit, and decorated with pink flowers.
Christine leaned across and squeezed her mother's hand.
"Oh, isn't it just too lovely?" she said.
Mrs. Wyatt laughed.
"You will turn Christine's head, Jimmy," she said to Challoner. "She will find Upton House dull after all this gaiety."
Jimmy was slightly bored. It was no novelty to him. He had spent so many nights dining and supping in similar places to Marnio's. All the waiters knew him. He wondered if they were surprised to see him without Cynthia Farrow. For weeks past he and she had been everywhere together. He met Sangster's quizzical eyes; he roused himself with an effort; he turned to Christine and began to talk.
He told her who some of the people were at the other tables. He pointed out a famous conductor, and London's most popular comedian. Christine was interested in everyone and everything. Her eyes sparkled, and her usually pale face was flushed. She was pretty to-night, if she had never been pretty before.
"I suppose you come here often?" she said. She looked up into Jimmy's bored young face. "I suppose it's not at all new or wonderful to you?"
He smiled.