the window. He closed his eyes; his head still ached vilely. He got
up late, and dressed with a bad grace.

He ate no breakfast. He tried to remember whether he had promised to
go round to the Wyatts' that morning or not; everything was a blank in
his mind except the one fact that he was engaged to Christine.

He could remember that clearly enough, at all events.

About eleven he took his hat and went out. He was annoyed because the
sun was shining; he was annoyed because London was looking cheerful
when he himself felt depressed beyond measure.

Unconsciously he found his way to the Wyatts' hotel; they were both
out, for which he was grateful.

"Miss Wyatt left a message for you in case you called, sir," the porter
told him. "She said would you come back to lunch?"

Jimmy muttered something and walked away. He had no intention of going
back to lunch; he wandered down Regent Street. Presently he found
himself staring in at a jeweller's window. That reminded him; he would
have to buy Christine a ring.

He wondered if Cynthia intended to keep the one he had given to her; it
had cost him a fabulous sum. He had been hard up for weeks afterwards
in consequence; and even then it was not nearly so fine as some she
already had--as some Mortlake could afford to give her, for instance.

He could not yet realise that this detestable thing had really happened