many nights dining and supping in similar places to Marnio's. All the
waiters knew him. He wondered if they were surprised to see him
without Cynthia Farrow. For weeks past he and she had been everywhere
together. He met Sangster's quizzical eyes; he roused himself with an
effort; he turned to Christine and began to talk.

He told her who some of the people were at the other tables. He
pointed out a famous conductor, and London's most popular comedian.
Christine was interested in everyone and everything. Her eyes
sparkled, and her usually pale face was flushed. She was pretty
to-night, if she had never been pretty before.

"I suppose you come here often?" she said. She looked up into Jimmy's
bored young face. "I suppose it's not at all new or wonderful to you?"

He smiled.

"Well, I'm afraid it isn't; you see----" He broke off; he sat staring
across the room with a sudden fire in his eyes.

A man and woman had just entered. The woman was in evening dress, with
a beautiful sable coat. Her hand was resting on the man's arm. She
was looking up at him with smiling eyes.

Jimmy caught his breath hard in his throat. For a moment the gaily lit
room swam before him--for the woman was Cynthia Farrow, and the man at
her side was Henson Mortlake.