Kettering at least sought and
enjoyed her society, but Jimmy----
She clenched her hands to keep back the blinding tears that crowded to
her eyes. What was she crying for? There was nothing to cry for; she
was happy--quite happy; she was away from Jimmy--away from the man
whose presence had only tortured her during those last few days; she
was at home--at Upton House, and Kettering was there whenever she
wanted him. She hoped he would come in the morning again; that he
would come quite early. After breakfast she wandered about the house
restlessly, listening for the sound of his car in the drive outside;
but the morning dragged away and he did not come.
Christine ate no lunch; her head ached, she said pettishly when Gladys
questioned her. No, she did not want to go out; there was nowhere to
go.
And all the time her eyes kept turning to the window again and again
restlessly.
Gladys did not know what to do; she was hoping and praying in her heart
that Kettering would do as she had asked him, and stay away. What was
the good of him coming again? What was the good of him making himself
indispensable to Christine? The day passed wretchedly. Once she found
Christine huddled up on the sofa crying; she was so miserable, she
sobbed; nobody cared for her; she was so lonely, and she wanted her
mother.
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