The Second Honeymoon Part 42

The question was direct enough, and in desperation he answered it as directly.

"I have come because my brother will be home next week, and I want to know what I am to tell him."

For the first time she blenched a little. Her eyes sought his with a kind of fear.

"Tell him? What do you mean? What does it matter what you tell him?"

"I mean about our marriage. The old boy was so pleased when he knew that I--that you---- It will about finish him if he knows how--if he knows that we--" He floundered helplessly.

"You mean if he knows that you married me out of pique, and that I found it out?" she added bitterly.

He attempted no defence; he stood there miserable and silent.

"You can tell him what you like," said Christine, after a moment. "I don't care in the very least."

"I know you don't. I quite realise that; but--but if, just for the sake of appearances, you felt you could be sufficiently forgiving to--to come back to me, just--just for a little while, I mean," he added with an embarra.s.sed rush. "I--I wouldn't bother you. I--I'd let you do just as you liked. I wouldn't ask anything. I--I----"

Christine laughed.

"You are inviting me to have a second honeymoon, in fact. Is that it?"

she asked bitterly. "Thank you very much. I enjoyed the first so tremendously that, of course, it is only natural you should think I must be anxious to repeat the experiment."

Jimmy flushed to the roots of his hair.

"I deserve everything you can say. I haven't any excuse to offer; and I know you'll never believe it if I were to tell you that--that when Cynthia----"

She put up her hands to her eyes with a little shudder.

"I don't want to hear anything about her; I don't ever want to hear her name again."

"I'm sorry, dear." The word of endearment slipped out unconsciously.

Christine's little figure quivered; suddenly she began to sob.

She wanted someone to be kind to her so badly. The one little word of endearment was like a ray of suns.h.i.+ne touching the hard bitterness of her heart, melting it, breaking her down.

"Christine!" said Jimmy in a choked voice.

He went over to her. He put an arm round her, drawing her nearer to the fire. He made her sit in the arm-chair, and he knelt beside her, holding her hand. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to say all the many pa.s.sionate words of remorse that rose to his lips, but somehow he was afraid. He was not sure of her yet. He was afraid of startling her, of driving her back into cold antagonism and suspicion.

Presently she stopped sobbing; she freed her hand and wiped away the tears.

"It was silly to cry," she said jerkily. "There was nothing to cry for." She was ashamed that she had broken down; angry that the cause of her grief had been that one little word of endearment spoken by Jimmy.

He rose to his feet and went to stand by the mantelshelf, staring down into the fire.

There was a long silence.

"When--when is Horatio coming?" Christine asked him presently.

"I don't know for certain. The cable said Monday, but it may be later or even earlier."

She looked at him. His shoulders were drooping, his face turned away from her.

There was an agony of indecision in her heart. She did not want to make things harder for him than was absolutely necessary; and yet she clung fast to her pride--the pride that seemed to be whispering to her to refuse--not to give in to him. She stared into the fire, her eyes blurred still with tears.

"I suppose he'll stop your allowance if he knows?" she said at last, with an odd little mirthless laugh.

Jimmy flushed.

"I wasn't thinking of that," he said quickly. "I don't care a hang what he does; but--but--well, I would have liked him to _think_ things were all right between us, anyway."

He waited a moment. "Of course, if you can't," he said then, jaggedly, "if you feel that you can't I'll tell him the truth. It will be the only way out of it."

A second honeymoon! Christine's own words seemed to ring in her ears mockingly.

She had never had a honeymoon at all yet. That week in London had been only a nightmare of tears and disillusionment and heartbreak. If it meant going through it all again----

She got up suddenly and went to stand beside Jimmy. She was quite close to him, but she did not touch him, though it would have seemed the most natural thing in all the world just at that moment to slip a hand through his arm or to lay her cheek to the rough serge of his coat. She had been so proud of him, had loved him so much; and yet now she seemed to be looking at him and speaking to him across a yawning gulf which neither of them were able to bridge.

"Jimmy, if--if I do--if I come back to you--just for a little while, so that--so that your brother won't ever know, you won't--you won't try and keep me--afterwards? You won't--you won't try and force me to stay with you, will you?"

"I give you my word of honour. I don't know how to thank you. I--I'm not half good enough for you. I don't deserve that you should ever give me a thought; I'm such an awful rotter," said Jimmy Challoner, with a break in his voice. He tried to take her hand, but she drew back.

"It's only--only friends we're going to be," she whispered.

He choked back a lump in his throat.

"Only friends, of course," he echoed, trying to speak cheerily. He knew what she meant; knew that he was not to remember that they were married, that they were just to behave like good pals--for the complete deception of the Great Horatio.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he said again. "And--and when will you--when----" he stammered.

"Oh, not yet," she told him quickly. "There is plenty of time. Next week will do. You can let me know when your brother arrives. I'll come then. I'll----" Someone knocked at the door. It was Gladys.

She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a telegram for Jimmy. I thought it might be important." She handed him the yellow envelope.

Jimmy took it agitatedly. His heart was thumping. He was sure that he knew what were its contents. He broke open the flap. There was a little silence; then he handed the message to his wife.

"Horatio arrives in London to-morrow morning. Wire just received.

Thought you ought to know at once.--SANGSTER."

Christine read the message through, then let it flutter to the floor at her feet; she looked up at Jimmy's embarra.s.sed face.

"Well?" she said sharply.

"He's coming to-morrow, you see," Jimmy began stumblingly. "He--he'll be in London to-morrow, so if--so if----" He cast an appealing glance at Gladys.

"I suppose I'm in the way," she said bluntly. "I'll clear out."