"
"And do you live in London too?"
"Yes; I live in an unfashionable part of Bloomsbury."
"Near Jimmy?"
"No; Jimmy lives in the Temple."
"Oh."
It evidently conveyed nothing to her.
"And do you know his brother--the great Horatio?" she asked laughingly.
"I had the honour of meeting him once," he answered with mock gravity.
"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! I think she's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,"
Christine declared vehemently. "Jimmy knows her, he says." She turned
her head. "Do you know her too?"
"Yes--slightly."
"You don't sound as if you like her," she said quickly.
He laughed in spite of himself.
"Perhaps because she doesn't like me," he answered.
"Doesn't she?" Christine's grave eyes searched his face. "I like you,
anyway," she said.
Sangster did not look at her, but a little flush rose to his brow.
"Thank you," he said, and his voice sounded, somehow, quite changed.
As the curtain fell on the second act, he rose quietly from his seat
and went round to where Jimmy stood.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53