towards him. "You must tell her, Jimmy; you must explain to her. She
. . . surely there is such a thing as buying her off."

The vulgarity of the expression made him wince; he thought of Christine
with a sort of shame.

She would be the last girl in the world, he knew, to wish to hold him
to a promise which he was unwilling to fulfil; he thought of her pale
face and wistful brown eyes, and he broke out strenuously:

"It's impossible . . . it's too late . . . we are to be married on
Thursday; everything is fixed up. I--oh, for God's sake, Cynthia,
don't go on talking about it. You drove me to do what I have done.
It's too late--I can't go back on my word."

She stood twisting her fingers agitatedly. Suddenly she went to where
he stood; she tried to put her arms round his neck, but he resisted
fiercely. He held her wrists; he kept his head flung back beyond her
reach.

"It's too late, Cynthia--do you hear! I've given my word; I'm not
going back on it now. You can't blame me. . . . I--I'd have given my
life for this to have happened before--just a few days ago; but now----"

"You don't love me," she accused him passionately; she began to cry.
"You said you would never love any woman but me as long as you lived.
I thought you cared more for me than I do for you, but now I know you
don't--you don't care so much. If you did you would give up this--this
girl, whoever she is, without a single thought." Her voice dropped
sobbingly. "Oh, Jimmy--Jimmy, don't be cruel; you can't mean It. I