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Updated: June 10, 2025
He had spent so many nights dining and supping in similar places to Marnio's. All the waiters knew him. He wondered if they were surprised to see him without Cynthia Farrow. For weeks past he and she had been everywhere together. He met Sangster's quizzical eyes; he roused himself with an effort; he turned to Christine and began to talk.
Cynthia extended her hand; she was rather pleased than otherwise to see him. She liked having two strings to her bow; it gave her worldly heart an odd little pang as she met the fierceness of Jimmy's eyes. . . . He was such a dear, she thought. Marnio's was not a place where he could make a scene either, even supposing . . . she shot a quick glance at Mortlake.
When they rose to leave he smiled indulgently at Christine's rapt face. "You have enjoyed it," he said. "Yes ever so much. But I liked Miss Farrow and the play she was in better." Jimmy turned sharply away; nobody answered. "We're going on to Marnio's to supper," Jimmy said as they crossed the foyer. "Christine has never been there." She looked up instantly. "No, I haven't."
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