He felt acutely
conscious of his own unworthiness.
He walked the whole way home. He was dog tired when he let himself
into his rooms. Sangster rose from a chair by the fire.
Jimmy stifled an oath under his breath as he shut the door.
Sangster was the last man he wished to see at the present moment. He
kept his eyes averted as he came forward.
"Hallo!" he said. "Been here long?"
"All the evening. Thought you'd sure to be in. Costin said you'd be
in to dinner, he thought."
"I meant to . . . stayed with the Wyatts, though."
Jimmy helped himself to a whiskey. He knew that Sangster was watching
him. His gaze got unbearable. He swung round with sharp impatience.
"What the devil are you staring at?" he demanded irritably.
"Nothing. What a surly brute you're getting. Got a cigarette?"
Jimmy threw his case over.
"By the way," he said with overdone carelessness, "I've got some news
for you. It'll be in all the papers to-morrow, so I thought I might as
well tell you first." There was a little pause.
"Well?" said Sangster shortly.
Jimmy struck a match on the sole of his shoe.
"I'm engaged," he said, "to Christine."
It seemed a long, long time before Sangster moved or spoke. After a
moment Jimmy Challoner swung round irritably.
"Well, why don't you say something?" he demanded.
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