Loring raised his eyebrows in passing surprise at the comparison no less than at Jack's assurance.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," he said without conviction. "If you're right, she'll climb down. If she won't climb down, it means she doesn't want you."
Jack pondered for a while without answering; then he looked at his watch and jumped up with a murmur of dismay.
"Jim, d'you know it's just on two?"
"I wonder what time it was when I'd finished pouring out my troubles to George that night! I hope it's going to be all right, Jack, though a mixed marriage is a hideous gamble. And Babs is a fair gamble in herself. And I wish I felt as certain of her as you do. Mind, three months——"
"I don't commit myself to any specific period," Jack interrupted, as they went into the hall. Barbara had the obstinate vanity of a spoilt and wilful child; after refusing to yield on one point, she was capable of sacrificing even her own happiness to sustain her refusal.
"If she holds out for three months," said Loring gravely, "it'll mean that there's something in her life bigger than you."
Jack laughed and ran down the steps into Curzon Street. That she wanted him was never in doubt since her first advances at the Croxton ball.
"Good-night, Jim, and many thanks. You'll hear from me before I die."
"Best of luck, old man," Loring called back, with such heartiness as he could force into his voice.