He never signed himself "Jimmy" when he was writing to the Great Horatio. The cable, together with his brother's address, cost him fifteen shillings; he grudged the expense, but he supposed it had to be sent.
He wandered on again up the street.
He had some lunch by himself, and went back to the Wyatts' hotel. Christine came running down the stairs to meet him; her eyes were dancing, her face flushed.
"Oh, Jimmy!" she said. She looked as if she expected him to kiss her, he thought; after a moment he lightly touched her cheek with his lips.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come to lunch," he said stiltedly. "I—er—I had an engagement. If you care to come out——"
He knew he must sound horribly casual and indifferent; he tried in vain to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice, but failed.
Christine seemed to notice nothing amiss; she assented eagerly when he suggested they should go and look at the shops.
"You—er you must have a ring, you know," he said.
His heart smote him when he saw the way her lips trembled. He took her hand remorsefully.
"I mean to make you very happy," he said. He dropped her hand again and moved away.