"You poor darling!" and "Oh, Gladys!" and the sound of many kisses. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Over Christine's head, his eyes met those of the elder girl. She smiled. "Christine . . . you didn't tell me you had visitors." Christine looked up, all smiles now and apologies, as she said: "Oh, I am so sorry--I forgot." She introduced them. "Mr. Kettering--Miss Leighton. . . . Mr. Kettering has been looking over the house; I hope he will buy it," she added childishly. "It's a shame it has got to be sold," said Gladys bluntly. There was something very taking about her, in spite of red hair and an indifferent complexion; she had honest blue eyes and a pleasant voice. She looked at Kettering a great deal as she spoke; perhaps she noticed how often his eyes rested on Christine. When presently they went out into the garden, she walked between them; she kept an arm about Christine's little figure. "I missed the train," she explained. "I got your husband's wire, Christine. Oh, yes, I got it all right, and I rushed to pack the very minute; but the cab was slow, and I just missed the train. However, I'm here all right." She looked at Kettering. "Do you live near here?" she asked him. "No; but I am hoping to soon," he said; and again she wondered if it were only her imagination that his eyes turned once more to Christine. When they got back to the house he bade them "good-bye." The big car was still waiting in the drive; its headlights were lit now, and they shone through the darkness like watchful eyes. "Who is he, anyway?" Gladys asked Christine bluntly, when Kettering had driven off. Christine shook her head. "I don't know; he came down in the train with me, and we had lunch at the same table, and he spoke. He was coming down here to look at our house, and so--well, we came up together." "What do you think Jimmy would say?" "Jimmy!" There was such depths of bitterness in Christine's voice that the elder girl stared. "Jimmy! He wouldn't care what I did, or what became of me. I--I--I'm never going to live with him any more." Gladys opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again. She had guessed that there had been something behind that urgent wire from Jimmy, but she wisely asked no questions. They went back into the house together. "You'll have to know in the end, so I may as well tell you now," Christine said hopelessly. She sat down on the rug by the fire, a forlorn little figure enough in her black frock. She told the whole story from beginning to end. She blamed nobody; she just spoke as if the whole thing had been a muddle which nobody could have foreseen or averted. Gladys listened silently. She was a very sensible girl; she seldom gave an impulsive judgment on any subject; but now---- "Jimmy wants his neck wrung," she said vehemently. Christine looked up with startled eyes. "Oh, how can you say such a thing!"