"And and did you ask him?" she questioned. "Did I not!" said Sangster heartily. "I went up to him Jimmy stopped dead, I believe he thought I was going to pinch his watch and I said, 'Will you be a sport and lend me a bob? Not a bit romantic, you see!" Christine caught her breath. "And did he did he?" she asked eagerly. Sangster laughed reminiscently. "You'll never guess what he said.

"What are you doing to-night, Jimmy?" he asked, "I'm at a loose end " Jimmy turned. "I'm taking some people to the theatre old friends! Met them quite by chance the other night. Haven't you heard me speak of them the Wyatts?" "By Jove, yes!" Sangster dropped the poker unceremoniously. "People from Upton House.

"Jimmy is a very wonderful person," said Sangster gravely. She looked rather puzzled. "Do you mean that?" she asked. "Or are you are you joking?" He felt suddenly ashamed. "I mean it, of course," he said gently. "I am very fond of Jimmy, though I haven't known him as long as you have." "How long?" she asked. He made a little calculation. "Well, it must be five years," he said at length.

Jimmy's eyes smiled faintly. "Interfering old ass," he said affectionately. Sangster coloured. He was very unhappy about Jimmy; he had always known that he was not particularly strong, and, as a matter of fact, during the past few days Jimmy had grown most surprisingly thin and weak, though he still insisted that there was nothing the matter with him nothing at all. There was a little silence.

He held his hands to the fire and shivered; Sangster looked at him silently for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door. He was out on the landing when Jimmy called his name. "Well?" "Where the deuce are you going?" Jimmy demanded irritably. "Nice sort of pal, you are, to go off and leave a chap when he's sick."

Jimmy's face was twitching. If he had been a woman one would have said that he was on the verge of an hysterical outburst. Sangster rose to the occasion. "Let's go and get a drink," he said prosaically. "I'm as dry as dust and we haven't had any lunch." Jimmy said he wasn't hungry, that he couldn't eat a morsel of anything if it were to save his life.

She wanted her mother; she wanted her mother desperately; she wanted to be kissed and made much of by someone who really wanted her to be happy. Tears smarted in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Her throat ached with repressed sobs as she took the brand-new quill pen from the white hand extended to her, with a little shy: "Thank you." Sangster came forward.

He rose to his feet; he threw his unsmoked cigarette into the grate and walked towards the door. Jimmy turned. "Here come back! Where are you going? Of all the bad-tempered beggars " His face was abashed; there was a sort of wavering in his voice. He moved a step forward to overtake his friend. Sangster looked back at him with biting contempt in his honest eyes. "I'm fed up with you," he said.

She seemed to wake from dreaming at the sound of his voice. She gave a little sigh, and leaned back in her chair. "Yes," she said. "We used to play together when we were children." "Such a long, long time ago," said Sangster, half mockingly, half in earnest. She nodded seriously. "It seems ages and ages," she said. She looked past him to where Jimmy sat talking to her mother.

"So did I years ago. Isn't he funny?" "Very." Sangster agreed. He thought it a very mild word with which to describe Horatio Ferdinand; he pitied Jimmy supremely for having to own such a relative. The stage bell rang through the theatre, the curtain began to swing slowly up. "We went to see Cynthia Farrow the other night," Christine said. "Isn't she lovely?" "I suppose she is!" "Suppose!