"I do love you," he declared. "I love you most awfully . . . Say yes,
Christine--say yes. We'll be ever so happy, you and I; we always got
on rippingly, didn't we?"

Nobody had ever made love to Christine before, since the days when
Jimmy Challoner had chased her round the garden for kisses, and she had
always loved him. She felt giddy with happiness. This was a moment
she had longed for ever since that night in the suburban theatre when
she had looked up into the stage box and seen him sitting there.

Jimmy had got his arm round her now; he put his hot cheek to her soft
hair.

"Say yes, Christine," he whispered; but he did not wait for her to say
it. He could be very masterful when he chose, and with sudden
impulsive impatience he bent and kissed her.

Christine burst into tears.

He had swept her off her feet. A moment since she had never dreamed of
anything like this; and now--now her head was on Jimmy Challoner's
shoulder, and his arm round her.

"Don't cry," he said huskily. "Don't cry--I didn't mean to be a brute.
Did I frighten you?"

He was already beginning to realise what he had done. A little cold
shiver crept down his spine.

He had kissed this girl and asked her to marry him; but he did not love