The Second Honeymoon
"Jimmy, you'll hate me--you'll--oh, why didn't you get my letter?" she broke out vehemently. "I explained so carefully, I----" she stopped.
There was a little silence. Challoner rose to his feet. He was rather white about the lips. There was a dawning apprehension in his eyes.
"Go on," he said. "What is it you--you can't--can't tell me?"
But he knew already, knew before she told him with desperate candour.
"I can't marry you, Jimmy, I'm sorry, but--but I can't--that's all."
The silence fell again. Behind the closed door in the crowded theatre the orchestra suddenly broke into a ragtime. Challoner found himself listening to it dully. Everything felt horribly unreal. It almost seemed like a scene in a play--this hot, crowded room; the figure of the woman opposite in her expensive stage gown, and--himself!
A long glass on the wall opposite reflected both their figures. Jimmy Challoner me