Mortlake raised himself and half frowned.

"Evening," he said shortly.

Cynthia extended her hand; she was rather pleased than otherwise to see
him. She liked having two strings to her bow; it gave her worldly
heart an odd little pang as she met the fierceness of Jimmy's
eyes. . . . He was such a dear, she thought.

Marnio's was not a place where he could make a scene either, even
supposing . . . she shot a quick glance at Mortlake. After all, it was
rather unfortunate Jimmy should have seen them together--just at
present, at any rate; it would not have mattered in a week or two's
time. She wondered if he had heard anything, if already he had
discovered by some unforeseen means how she had lied to him? . . . She
gave him one of the sweetest smiles.

"Are you having supper here, Jimmy? I didn't see you."

It was not the truth. She had seen him the moment she entered, but she
thought it more effective to pretend otherwise.

"I am over there with friends," said Jimmy curtly. He glanced across
to the table he had just left, and met Christine's eyes.

Somehow he felt uncomfortable. He looked sharply away again, and down
at the beautiful smiling face raised to his.

"When may I come and see you?" he asked bluntly.