Christine was so wrapped up in Jimmy . . . and Jimmy!--of course, he must know many, many other women far more attractive and beautiful than this little daughter of hers. She half sighed as she caught the expression of Christine's eyes as they rested on him. Suddenly Jimmy rose. "Will you excuse me a moment? . . . There is a friend of mine over there. . . . Please excuse me." Sangster scowled. He thought Jimmy was behaving like a weak fool. He would have stopped him had it been at all possible; but Jimmy had already left the table and crossed to where Cynthia was sitting. The sight of her in Mortlake's company for the second time that day had scattered his fine resolutions to the winds. There was a raging fire of jealousy in his heart as he went up to her. A waiter was filling her glass with champagne, Mortlake was whispering to her confidentially across the corner of the table. "Good evening," said Jimmy Challoner. He did his best to control his voice, but in spite of himself a little thrill of rage vibrated through it. Mortlake raised himself and half frowned. "Evening," he said shortly. Cynthia extended her hand; she was rather pleased than otherwise to see him. She liked having two strings to her bow; it gave her worldly heart an odd little pang as she met the fierceness of Jimmy's eyes. . . . He was such a dear, she thought. Marnio's was not a place where he could make a scene either, even supposing . . . she shot a quick glance at Mortlake. After all, it was rather unfortunate Jimmy should have seen them together--just at present, at any rate; it would not have mattered in a week or two's time. She wondered if he had heard anything, if already he had discovered by some unforeseen means how she had lied to him? . . . She gave him one of the sweetest smiles. "Are you having supper here, Jimmy? I didn't see you." It was not the truth. She had seen him the moment she entered, but she thought it more effective to pretend otherwise. "I am over there with friends," said Jimmy curtly. He glanced across to the table he had just left, and met Christine's eyes. Somehow he felt uncomfortable. He looked sharply away again, and down at the beautiful smiling face raised to his. "When may I come and see you?" he asked bluntly. He spoke quite distinctly; Mortlake must have heard every word. Cynthia looked nonplussed for a moment; then she laughed. "Come any time you like, my dear boy. . . . I am always pleased to see you--any afternoon, you know." She smiled and nodded. Jimmy felt that he had been dismissed. After a moment he walked away. His heart was a dead weight in his breast. He sat down again beside Christine. She turned to him eagerly. "Wasn't that Miss Farrow? . . . . Oh, Jimmy, why didn't you tell me?" Jimmy drained his wineglass before answering. "I forgot you were interested; I'm sorry. . . . She isn't alone, you see, or--or I would introduce her--if you cared for me to, that is."