He came nearer to her.

“Take off your hat and coat, Christine, and don’t be absurd.  Why, we’ve only been married a little more than a week.”  His voice was quieter and more gentle.  “What’s the matter?  Let’s sit down and talk things over quietly.  I’ve something to tell you.  I wanted to see you to-night; I came to your door just now.”

“I know—­I heard you.”

“Very well; what’s it all about?  What have I done to upset you like this?”

She shut her eyes for a moment.  When he spoke to her so kindly it almost broke her heart; it brought back so vividly the boy sweetheart whom she had never really forgotten.  And yet this Jimmy was not the Jimmy she had known in those happy days, This Jimmy only looked at her with the same eyes; in reality he was another man—­a stranger whom she feared and almost hated.

He took her hand.

“Christine—­are you ill?”

She opened her eyes; they were blazing.

The touch of his fingers on hers seemed to drive her mad.

“Yes,” she said shrilly, “I am—­ill because of you and your lies, and your hateful deception; ill because you’ve broken my heart and ruined my life.  You swore to me that you’d never see Cynthia Farrow again.  You swore to me that it was all over and done with; and now—­now——­”

“Yes—­now,” said Jimmy; his voice was hoarse and strained.  “Yes—­and now,” he said again, as she did not answer.

She wrenched herself free.

“You’ve been with her this evening.  You’ve left me alone here all these hours to be with her.  I don’t count at all in your life.  I don’t know why you married me, unless it was to—­to pay her out.  I wish I’d never seen you.  I wish I’d died before I ever married you.  I wish—­oh, I wish I could die now,” she ended in a broken whisper.

Jimmy had fallen back a step; he was no longer looking at her.  There was a curious expression of shocked horror in his, eyes as they stared past his wife into the silent room.

Presently: 

“She’s dead,” he said hoarsely.  “Cynthia Farrow is dead.”

CHAPTER XIV

BITTERNESS

“Dead!” Christine echoed Jimmy’s hoarse word in a dull voice, not understanding.  “Dead!” she said again blankly.

He moved away from the door; he dropped into a chair and hid his face in his hands.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Christine stared at Jimmy’s bowed head with dull eyes.

She was trying to force her brain to work, but she could not; she was only conscious of a faint sort of curiosity as to whether Jimmy were lying to her; but somehow he did not look as if he were.  She tried to speak to him, but no words would come.

Suddenly he raised his head; he was very pale.  “Well?” he said defiantly.

His eyes were hard and full of hurt; hurt because of another woman, Christine told herself, in furious pain; hurt because the woman he had really and truly loved had gone out of his life for ever.