Jimmy laughed, rather a mirthless laugh.

"Penniless beggars like me don't marry beautiful wives like--like Miss
Farrow," he said with a sort of savagery. "They want men with pots and
pots of money, who can buy them motor-cars and diamonds, and all the
rest of it." His voice was hurt and angry. Christine looked puzzled.
She walked on a little way silently. Then:

"I shouldn't mind how poor a man was if I loved him," she said.

Jimmy looked down at her. Her face was half-hidden by the soft brown
fur she wore, but he could just get a glimpse of dark lashes against
her pale cheek, and the dainty outline of forehead and cheek.

"You won't always think that," he told her cynically. "Some day, when
you're older and wiser than you are now, you'll find yourself looking
at the L. s. d. side of a man, Christine."

"I never shall," she cried out indignantly. "Jimmy, you are horrid!"

But Jimmy Challoner did not smile.

"Women are all the same," he told her darkly.

Oh, he was very, very young indeed, was Jimmy Challoner!




CHAPTER IV