And after all he was still living!

The knowledge hammered against his brain, but as yet he could not
realise its meaning. Cynthia went on jerkily.

"I only knew--yesterday. I wrote to you. I--at first I thought it
could not be true. But--but now I know it is. Oh, why don't you say
something--anything?" she broke out passionately.

Challoner looked up. "What can I say, if this is true?"

"It is true," her face was flushed. There was a hard look in her eyes
as if she were trying to keep back tears. After a moment she moved
over to where he sat and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Jimmy Challoner turned his head and kissed it.

"Don't take it so badly, Jimmy. It's--it's worse for me," her voice
broke. A cleverer man than Jimmy Challoner might have heard the little
theatrical touch in the words, but Jimmy was too genuinely miserable
himself to be critical.

At the first sob he was on his feet. He put his arms round her; he
laid his cheek against her hair; but he did not kiss her. Afterwards
he wondered what instinct it was that kept him from kissing her. He
broke out into passionate protestations.

"I can't give you up. There must be some way out for us all. You
don't love him, and you do care for me. It can't be true, it's--it's
some abominable trick to part us, Cynthia."