The horrible feeling that Jimmy was a stranger came back to her afresh. Oh, was this the kind boy lover who had been so good to her that day her mother died--the kind lover who had taken her in his arms and told her that she had him, that he would never leave her? She longed so for just one word--one sign of affection; but Jimmy only sat there, hot and uncomfortable and silent. After a moment: "Better?" he asked. "Yes . . ." She tried to control herself; she stammered a little shamed apology. "I'm so sorry--Jimmy." He patted her hand. "That's all right." She took courage; she looked into his face. "And you do--oh, you do love me?" she whispered. "Of course I do." He put an awkward arm round her; he pressed her head to his shoulder, so that she could not see his face. "Of course I do," he said again. "Don't you worry--we're going to be awfully happy." He kissed her cheek. Christine turned and put her arms round his neck; she was only a child still--she saw no reason at all why she should not let Jimmy know how very much she loved him. "Oh, I do love you--I do," she said softly. Jimmy coloured hotly; he felt an uncontrollable longing to kick himself; he kissed her again with furtive haste. "That's all right, dear," he said. They had arranged to stay a week in London. Christine liked London. "And we couldn't very well do anything very much, could we?" So she had appealed to him wistfully. "When mother----" She had not been able to go on. Jimmy had agreed hastily to anything; he had chosen a very quiet and select hotel, and taken a suite of rooms. He did not know how on earth they were going to be paid for; he was counting on an extra cheque from the Great Horatio as a wedding present. He was relieved when the taxi stopped at the hotel; he got out with a sigh; he turned to give his hand to Christine; his heart smote him as he looked at her. Sangster was right when he had called her "such a child." She looked very young as she stood there in the afternoon sunshine, in her black frock, and with her white flowers clasped nervously in both hands. Jimmy felt conscious of a lump in his throat. "Come along, dear," he said very gently; he put his hand through her arm. They went into the hotel together. Christine went upstairs with one of the maids. Jimmy said he would come up presently for tea; he went into the smoking-room and rang for a brandy and soda. For the first time in his life he was genuinely afraid of what he had done; he knew now that he cared nothing for Christine. It was a terrifying thought. And she had nobody but him--the responsibility of her whole life lay on his shoulders; it made him hot to think of it. He tossed the brandy and soda off at a gulp. He looked at his watch; half-past four. They had been married only two hours; and he had got to spend all the rest of his life with her.