"A second honeymoon!" What a farce it all was. It seemed an eternity before the rumble of traffic sounded again in the streets and the first grey daylight crept through the blind chinks. She wondered what Gladys was doing, what Kettering was doing, and if he knew that she had gone, and where. She deliberately conjured the memory of his eyes and voice as he had last looked at her and spoken. Her heart beat a little faster at the memory. She knew well enough that he loved her, and for a moment she wondered what life would be like with him to always care for her and shield her. He was much older than Jimmy. She did not realise that perhaps his knowledge of women and the way in which they liked to be treated was the result of a long apprenticeship during which he had had time to overcome the impulsive, headlong blunderings through which Jimmy was still stumbling. She was up and dressed early; she had had her breakfast and was ready to go out when Jimmy arrived. He looked disappointed. He had made an effort and got up unusually early for him in order to be round at the hotel before Christine could possibly expect him. He asked awkwardly if she had slept well. She looked away from him as she answered impatiently: "I never sleep well in London--I hate it." He bit his lip. "I'm sorry. What would you like to do this morning?" "I'm going out." "You mean that you don't wish me to come?" Christine shrugged her shoulders. "Come if you wish--certainly." They left the hotel together. It was a bright sunny morning, and London was looking its best. Christine rushed into haphazard speech. "Have you heard from your brother again?" "No; I hardly expected to." Something in the constraint of his voice made her look at him quickly. "I suppose--I suppose he really is coming?" she said with sudden suspicion. Jimmy flushed scarlet. "I haven't deserved that," he said. Christine laughed--a hard little laugh, strangely unlike her. "I am not so sure," she answered. They had turned into Regent Street now. A flower-girl thrust a bunch of scented violets into Jimmy's face. "Buy a bunch for the pretty lady, sir." Jimmy smiled involuntarily. He looked at Christine. "May I buy them for you?" He did not wait for her answer; he gave the girl a shilling. Christine took the flowers indifferently. She kept marvelling at herself. It seemed impossible that she was the same girl who had once walked these very streets with Jimmy, her heart beating fast with happiness. Then, had he given her a bunch of violets, she would have thrilled at the little gift; but now--she tucked them carelessly into the front of her coat. She did not notice when presently they fell out; but Jimmy had seen, and there was a curiously hurt look in his eyes. They walked through the park. Jimmy met several people he knew; he raised his hat mechanically, making no attempt to stop and speak. Christine looked at everyone with a sense of antagonism.