The Second Honeymoon | Page 6

was standing staring at the stage as if for him there
was nothing else in all the world. She stifled a little sigh as she turned
to put on her cloak.
The house was still applauding and clamouring for Cynthia to show
herself again. Challoner waited. He loved to see her come before the
curtain--loved the little graceful way she bowed to her audience.

But to-night he waited in vain, and when at last he pushed his way
round to the stage door it was only to be told that Miss Farrow had left
the theatre directly the play was over.
Challoner's heart stood still for a moment. She had done this
deliberately to avoid him, he was sure. He asked an agitated question.
"Did she--did she go alone?"
The doorkeeper answered without looking at him, "There was a gent
with her, sir--Mr. Mortlake, I think."
Challoner went out into the night blindly. He had to pass the theatre to
get back to the main street. Mrs. Wyatt and Christine were just entering
a taxi. Christine saw him. She touched his arm diffidently as he passed.
"Jimmy!"
Challoner pulled up short. He would have avoided them had it been at
all possible.
Mortlake! she had gone with that brute, whilst he--he answered Mrs.
Wyatt mechanically.
"Thanks--thanks very much. I was going to walk, but if you will be so
kind as to give me a lift."
He really hardly knew what he was saying. He took off his hat and
passed a hand dazedly across his forehead before he climbed into the
taxi and found himself sitting beside Christine.
He forced himself to try to make conversation. "Well, and how did you
enjoy the play?"
It was a ghastly effort to talk. He wondered if they would notice how
strange his manner was.
"Immensely," Mrs. Wyatt told him. "I've heard so much about Cynthia
Farrow, but never seen her before. She certainly is splendid."

"She's the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," said Christine.
Challoner shot her a grateful look. Most women were cats and never
had a word of praise for one of their own sex. He felt slightly
comforted.
"If you've nothing better to do, Jimmy," said Mrs. Wyatt, "won't you
come back to the hotel and have some supper with us? We are only up
in town for a fortnight. Do come if you can."
Challoner said he would be delighted. He was very young in some
ways. He had not the smallest intention of calling on Cynthia that night.
He wished savagely that she could know what he was doing; know that
in spite of everything he was not breaking his heart for her.
She was with that brute Mortlake; well, he was not going to spend the
next hour or two alone with only his thoughts for company.
He wondered where Cynthia had gone, and if she had known all along
that Mortlake was calling for her. He ground his teeth.
The two women were talking together. They did not seem to notice his
silence. Christine's voice reminded him a little of Cynthia's; a sudden
revulsion of feeling flooded his heart.
Poor darling! all this was not her fault. No doubt she was just as
miserable as he. He longed to go to her. He wished he had not accepted
the Wyatts' invitation. He felt that it was heartless of him to have done
so. He would have excused himself even now if the taxi had not already
started.
Mrs. Wyatt turned to him. "I suppose you are very fond of theatres?"
"Yes--no--yes, I mean; I go to heaps." He wondered if his reply
sounded very foolish and absent-minded. He rushed on to cover it. "I've
seen this particular play a dozen times; it's a great favourite of mine.
I--I'm very keen on it."

"I think it is lovely," said Christine dreamily.
She was leaning back beside him in the corner. He could only see her
white-gloved hands clasped in the lap of her frock.
"You must let me take you to some," he said. He had a rotten feeling
that if he stopped talking for a minute he would make a fool of himself.
"I often get passes for first nights and things," he rambled on.
Christine sat up. "Do you! oh, how lovely! I should love to go! Jimmy,
do you--do you know any people on the stage--actors and actresses?"
"I know some--yes. I know quite a lot."
"Not Miss Farrow, I suppose?" she questioned eagerly.
"Yes--yes, I do," said Challoner.
She gave a little cry of delight. "Oh, I wish I could meet her--she's so
beautiful."
Challoner could not answer. He would have given worlds had it been
possible to stop the cab and rush away; but he knew he had got to go