"Very well, then say yes."
Christine said it.
She thought everything perfect; she had never been so happy in all her life. If Jimmy did not love her tremendously, he would not be so anxious to be married, she told herself. Theirs was going to be one of those romantic marriages of which one reads in books.
"Shall I speak to Mrs. Wyatt, or will you?" he asked her.
"I think I would like to—first," she told him.
"Very well." Jimmy was relieved. He was somehow a little afraid of Mrs. Wyatt's kind mother eyes; he dreaded lest she might read deep down into his heart, and know what he was doing—guess that he was only marrying Christine because—because why?
To forget another woman; to pay another woman out for the way she had treated him. That is how he would have answered that question had he been quite honest with himself; but as it was he evaded facing it at all. He merely contented himself with assuring Christine all over again that he was going to be very good to her and make her happy.
"I'll tell mother to-night," Christine said when they went back to the hotel. "And I'll write to you, Jimmy; I'll——" she broke off. The porter had come forward; he spoke to Jimmy in an undertone.
"May I speak to you a moment, sir?"
Christine moved away.