Suddenly: "Will you marry me, Christine?" he said.
There was a sharp silence.
Christine's little face had grown as white as death; her soft brown eyes were almost tragic.
"Marry you!" She echoed his words in a whisper. "Marry you," she said again. "Oh, Jimmy!" She caught her breath in something like a sob. "But—but you don't love me," she said in a pitiful whisper.
Jimmy lost his head.
"I do love you," he declared. "I love you most awfully . . . Say yes, Christine—say yes. We'll be ever so happy, you and I; we always got on rippingly, didn't we?"
Nobody had ever made love to Christine before, since the days when Jimmy Challoner had chased her round the garden for kisses, and she had always loved him. She felt giddy with happiness. This was a moment she had longed for ever since that night in the suburban theatre when she had looked up into the stage box and seen him sitting there.
Jimmy had got his arm round her now; he put his hot cheek to her soft hair.
"Say yes, Christine," he whispered; but he did not wait for her to say it. He could be very masterful when he chose, and with sudden impulsive impatience he bent and kissed her.
Christine burst into tears.