Christine was laughing, too, now.

“Oh, I can just hear him saying it!  I can just see him!” she cried.  “And then what did you do?”

“Well, we went along—­to this pal of Jimmy’s, and Jimmy borrowed a fiver.  He gave me three pounds, and took me along to have a dinner.  And—­well, we’ve been pals ever since.  A bit of luck for me, wasn’t it?”

“I was thinking,” said little Christine very earnestly, “that it was a bit of luck for Jimmy.”

Sangster grew furiously red.  For a moment he could think of nothing to say; he had only told the story in order to soften her towards Jimmy, and in a measure he had succeeded.

Christine walked beside him without speaking for some time; her brown eyes were very thoughtful.

Sangster talked no more of Jimmy; he was too tactful to overdo things.  Jimmy was not mentioned between them again till he took her back to the hotel.  Then: 

“I don’t know how to thank you for being so kind to me,” she said earnestly.  Her brown eyes were lifted confidingly to his face.  “But I’ve been happier this afternoon than—­than I’ve ever been since my mother died.”

Sangster gripped her hand hard for a moment.

“And you will be happy—­always—­if you’re just a little patient,” he said, rather huskily.  “Jimmy’s a spoilt boy, and—­and—­it’s the women who have to show all of us—­eh?  It’s the women who are our guardian angels; remember that!”

He hated himself for having had to blame her, even mildly, when the fault was so utterly and entirely Jimmy’s.  It seemed a monstrous thing that Christine should have to teach Jimmy unselfishness; he hoped he had not said too much.

But Christine was really much happier, had he known it.  She went up to her room, and changed her frock for one of the few simple ones she had had new when she was married.  She did her hair in a way she thought Jimmy would like; she sent one of the servants out for flowers to brighten the little sitting-room; she timidly ordered what she thought would be an extra nice dinner to please him.  The waiter looked at her questioningly.

“For—­for two, madam?” he asked hesitatingly.

“Yes, please.  Mr. Challoner and I will dine up here this evening.”

As a rule, Jimmy dined downstairs alone, and Christine had something sent up to her.  She was vaguely beginning to realise now how foolish she had been.  The little time she had spent with Sangster had been like the opening of a door in her poor little heart, letting in fresh air and common sense.  After all, how could she hope to win Jimmy by tears and recriminations?  She had heard the doctrine of “forgive and forget” preached so frequently; surely this was the moment in which to apply it to herself and him.

Her heart beat a little fast at the thought.  She spoke again to the waiter as he turned to leave the room.

“And—­and will you find out what wine Mr. Challoner has with his dinner, as a rule; and—­and serve the same this evening.”