“What a damnable hash-up, eh?” he said.

“It’ll all come right—­I’m certain it will.”

Jimmy looked at him affectionately.

“Dear old optimist!” He struck a match and lit the cigarette which had been hanging listlessly between his lips.  “I suppose—­if you’d run down and have a look at her now and then,” he said awkwardly.  “She likes you—­and you could let me know if she’s all right.”

“If you don’t think she would consider it an intrusion.”

“I am sure she wouldn’t; and you’ll like Upton House.”  Jimmy’s voice was dreamily reminiscent.  “It’s to be sold later on, you know; but for the present Christine will live there. . . .  It would be a real kindness if you would run down now and then, old chap.”

“I will, of course, if you’re sure——­”

“I’m quite sure.  Christine likes you.”

“Very well.”

Sangster kept his eyes downbent; somehow he could not meet Jimmy’s just then.

“And you—­what are you going to do?” he asked presently.

“I shall go back to my old rooms for a time, and take Costin with me; he’ll be pleased, anyway, with the new arrangement.  It was really funny the way he tried to congratulate me when I told him I was going to be married——­” He broke off, remembering that afternoon, and the way Cynthia had come into the room as they were talking.

He would never see her again; never meet the seductive pleading of her eyes any more; never hear her laughing voice calling to him, “Jimmy dear.”

The thought was intolerable.  He moved restlessly in his chair; the sweat broke out on his forehead.

“My God! it seems impossible that she’s dead,” he said hoarsely.

Sangster did not look up.

There was a long pause.

“She was in Mortlake’s car, you know,” said Jimmy again, disjointedly.

Sangster nodded.

“He’ll be shockingly cut-up,” said Jimmy again.  “I hated the chap; but he was really fond of her.”

“Yes.”  Jimmy’s cigarette had gone out again, and he relit it absently.

“Christine will never believe that it hasn’t broken my heart,” he said in a queer voice.

No answer.

“You won’t believe it either?” he said.

The eyes of the two men met; Jimmy flushed scarlet.

“It’s the truth,” he said.  “I think, ever since I knew that she—­that she had tried to get rid of me——­” He stopped painfully.  “It makes me wonder if I ever—­ever really, you know.”

“We all make mistakes—­bad mistakes,” said Sangster kindly.

Jimmy smiled a little.

“You old philosopher . . .  I don’t believe you’ve ever cared a hang for a woman in all your life.”

“Oh, yes I have.”  Sangster’s eyes were staring past Jimmy, down the little room.

“Really?” Jimmy was faintly incredulous.  “Who was she—­wouldn’t she have you?”

“I never asked her, and she is married now—­to another man.”