eyes quickly. There was none of the passionate joy in his face which
she had so confidently expected; none of the passionate joy in his
voice which her heart told her ought to be there. Suddenly he turned
aside from her; he put his arm down on the mantelshelf, hiding his face
in it.

"Jimmy." She whispered his name with a sort of fear.
"Jimmy--what--what is it? Oh, you are frightening me. I thought you
would be so glad--so glad." She caught the limp hand hanging against
his side; she laid her soft cheek to it.

Jimmy Challoner tore himself free with a sort of rage.

"It's too late--too late," he said hoarsely.

"Too--late!" She stared at him, not understanding. "What--what do you
mean? That--that you can't forgive me; that--that you're so angry
that--that----"

He swung round, white-faced and quivering.

"It's too late," he said again hopelessly. "I'm engaged to be married.
I--oh, why did you ever send me away?" he broke out in anguish.

Her face had paled, but she was still far enough from understanding.

"Engaged to be married--you! To whom, Jimmy?"

He answered her in a voice of stifled rage.