“Diamonds are nice,” he said with more enthusiasm.

Christine chose a single stone; the ring just fitted, and she turned her little hand about delightedly to show Jimmy how the diamond flashed.

She felt as if she were walking on air as they left the shop.  Now and then she glanced at Jimmy as if afraid that she had dreamed all this.

She had loved him all her life; she was sure that he, too, must have loved her, or he would never have asked her to be his wife.

They had tea together.  Over the buttered muffins Jimmy said suddenly: 

“Christine, why can’t we get married—­soon, I mean!”

Lovely colour dyed her face.

“But—­but we’ve only just got engaged,” she said breathlessly.

“I know; but engagements are always short nowadays.  If you are willing——­”

Apparently she was more than willing; she would have married him that minute had he suggested it, She said she must speak to her mother about it.

“There is your brother to tell, too,” she said.

“I cabled to him this morning,” Jimmy answered.

“Did you!” Her eyes brightened.  “How sweet of you, Jimmy.  Do you think he will be pleased?”

“He’s never pleased about anything,” said Jimmy with a little laugh.

He leaned an elbow on the corner of the table and looked into her eyes.

“Say yes, Christine,” he urged.  “If you want to marry me, Mrs. Wyatt won’t stand in the way; after all, you’ve known me all your life.”

She flushed and stammered: 

“Jimmy—­I—­I think I’m a little afraid.  Supposing—­supposing you found out that—­that you’d made a mistake——­” Her eyes were troubled.

Jimmy’s face caught the flush from hers; for a moment his eyes wavered.

“We’re going to be awfully happy,” he asserted then, almost violently.  “If you love me——­”

“You know I do.”  His hand fell carelessly to hers.

“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.