He never knew how it happened; never knew if he made the first move
towards her, or she to him; but he held her fast, kissing her as he had
never kissed little Christine--her eyes, her hair, her warm, tremulous
lips.

"You do love me, then, after all?" she whispered.

Jimmy let her go; he fell back against the door, hiding his eyes.

"You know I do," he said hoarsely.

He hated himself for his momentary weakness; he could not bear to look
at her; when she had gone, he sat down in the big arm-chair and hid his
face in his hands.

His pulses were racing; his head felt on fire.

The day after to-morrow he was to marry Christine. He had given his
promise to her, and he knew that it was too late to draw back--too late
to break her heart. And yet there was only one woman in all the world
whom he loved, and whom he wanted--the woman from whom he had just
parted; the woman who was even then driving away down the street with a
little triumphant smile on her carefully reddened lips.




CHAPTER XI