She read now, in this moment of descent into misery, a dreadful blunder made by her own overweening eagerness.  She saw Keith, alone, thinking that he would be at a loss to fill his time, suddenly remembering her, thinking in a rather contemptuous way of their days together, and supposing that she would do as well as another for an hour’s talk to keep him from a stagnant evening.  If that were so, good-bye to her dreams.  If she were no more to him than that there was no hope left in her life.  For Keith might ply from port to port, seeing in her only one girl for his amusement; but he had spoilt her for another man.  No other man could escape the withering comparison with Keith.  To Jenny he was a king among men, incomparable; and if he did not love her, then the proud Jenny Blanchard, who unhesitatingly saw life and character with an immovable reserve, was the merest trivial legend of Kennington Park.  She was like every other girl, secure in her complacent belief that she could win love—­until the years crept by, and no love came, and she must eagerly seek to accept whatever travesty of love sidled within the radius of her attractiveness.

Suddenly Jenny looked at Keith.

“Better now,” she said harshly.  “You’ll have to buck up with your tale—­won’t you!  If you’re going to get it out before I have to toddle home again.”

“Oh,” said Keith, in a confident tone.  “You’re here now.  You’ll stay until I’ve quite finished.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jenny sharply.  “Don’t talk rubbish!”

Keith held up a warning forefinger.  He stretched his legs and drew from his pocket a stout pipe.

“I mean what I say.”  He looked sideways at her.  “Don’t be a fool, Jenny.”

Her heart was chilled at the menace of his words no less than by the hardness of his voice.

v

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Keith; but you’ll take me back to the steps when I say,” she said.  Keith filled his pipe.  “I suppose you think it’s funny to talk like that.”  Jenny looked straight in front of her, and her heart was fluttering.  It was not her first tremor; but she was deeply agitated.  Keith, with a look that was almost a smile, finished loading the pipe and struck a match.  He then settled himself comfortably at her side.

“Don’t be a juggins, Jenny,” he remarked, in a dispassionate way that made her feel helpless.

“Sorry,” she said quickly.  “I’ve got the jumps.  I’ve had awful rows to-night ... before coming out.”

“Tell me about them,” Keith urged.  “Get ’em off your chest.”  She shook her head.  Oh no, she wanted something from him very different from such kindly sympathy.

“Only make it worse,” she claimed.  “Drives it in more.  Besides, I don’t want to.  I want to hear about you.”

“Oh, me!” he made a laughing noise.  “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You said you would.”  Jenny was alarmed at his perverseness; but they were not estranged now.