Then Jimmy turned away and dropped into a chair by the table. He fell
forward with his face hidden in his outstretched arms.
"Oh, my God!" he said in a hoarse whisper.
It was so useless to try and offer any consolation. Sangster stood
looking at him with a suspicious moisture in his honest eyes.
Christine--little Christine! His heart felt as if it were breaking as
he thought of her--of her love for Jimmy--of the first days of their
engagement. And now it was in vain that he tried to remember that
Jimmy was to blame for it all. He tried to harden his heart against
him; but, somehow, he could not. He went over to where he sat and laid
a kind hand on his shoulder.
"Don't give up yet, boy." At that moment he felt years older than his
friend. "There may be some mistake. Don't let's give up till we're
sure--quite sure----"
Jimmy raised his face. His lips were grey and pinched.
"It's no use," he said hopelessly. "No use. . . . Somehow I know
it. . . . Oh, my God! If I could only have it over again--just a
day. . . ." The anguish in his voice would have wrung a harder heart
than Sangster's. For a moment there was unbroken silence in the room.
Then Jimmy struggled to his feet.
"I must go after her. She won't come back, I know. But at least I can
try. . . . It may not be too late---- Kettering--damn him! .
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