“Of course, I shouldn’t have told you, only I know you won’t say a word,” said Jimmy presently.  “I—­I stood it as long as I could; I stood it till I felt as if I should go mad, and then I bolted off here to you. . . .  She’s got nobody but me, you see.”  He drew a long breath.  “I only wish to God Mrs. Wyatt were alive,” he added earnestly.

Sangster said nothing.  “I wondered if, perhaps, you’d go round and see her, old chap,” Jimmy jerked out then.  “She likes you.  Of course, you needn’t say you’d seen me.  Couldn’t you ’phone up or something?  Get her to go out. . . .  She’ll die if someone can’t rouse her.”

Sangster coloured.

“I—­I’m not good at that sort of thing, Jimmy.  It’s not that I’m unwilling to help you; I’d do anything——­”

“Well, then, try it; there’s a good chap.  You—­you were so decent to her that day Mrs. Wyatt died; you’ve got a sort of way that I haven’t.  I—­I should be no end obliged.  I’ll—­I’ll keep out of the way myself for a bit, and then——­” He looked anxiously at his friend.  “Will you go?”

“She probably won’t see me if I do.”

“She will.  She’s sick of the sight of me.”

Sangster smiled in spite of himself.  He got up, stretching his arms; he shook his head at Jimmy.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” said Jimmy savagely.  “But I swear to you that it’s not my fault this time, anyway.  I swear to you that I’ve done my best.  I——­”

“I’m not doubting it,” said Sangster dryly.  He fetched his hat and coat from a room adjoining, and they went out into the street together.

“Take her out to lunch,” said Jimmy nervously.  “Take her for a walk in the park—­try to rouse her a bit; but for heaven’s sake don’t talk about me.”

He looked anxious and worried; he really was very upset; but he was conscious of an enormous sense of relief as he and Sangster parted at the street corner.  As soon as Sangster was out of sight he hailed a taxi, and told the man to drive him to his club.  He ordered a stiff brandy and soda, and dropped into one of the deep leathern arm-chairs with a sigh.  He had been married only three days, and already it seemed like three years.  Of course, he was not blaming Christine, poor little girl; but—­oh, if only she hadn’t been quite such a child!

He lifted the glass, and looked at its contents with lugubrious eyes.

“Well, here’s to a brighter future,” said Jimmy Challoner drearily; but he sighed heavily as he tossed off the brandy and soda.

* * * * * *

Sangster felt decidedly nervous when he reached the hotel where Jimmy and his wife were staying.  He had no faith in his own powers, though apparently Jimmy had plenty for him; he was no ladies’ man; he had never troubled about a woman in his life, probably because none had ever troubled about him.  He asked punctiliously for Jimmy; it was only when told that Mr. Challoner was out that he asked for Christine.