"Without Cinders!" She stared at him mystified, then began to laugh. "Trevor, I believe you are jealous of Cinders!"
"Perhaps," he said. "Anyhow, I should prefer your portrait without him. You look like a baby of six cuddling a toy."
"I wonder what makes you so anxious to marry me," said Chris unexpectedly.
Mordaunt still smiled at her. "Strange, isn't it?" he said.
"Yes, I can't understand it in the least." She shook her head with a puzzled expression. "It's a pity you don't like that photograph. I'm sure Cinders has come out beautifully. And he isn't a bit like a toy."
Chris looked at him with sudden misgiving. "But, Trevor, when--when we are married--"
"Oh, of course," he said at once. "I didn't mean that. I haven't the smallest wish to part you from him. It's only his photograph I have no use for."
Her face cleared magically. "Dear Trevor, I quite understand. And I would go and be done again to-morrow if I had the money, but I haven't."
She nodded. "Horribly. I'm very extravagant, too--at least, Aunt Philippa says so. I can't bear asking her for money. In fact, I--I--"
She hesitated, avoiding his eyes. "Shall I tell you something, Trevor?" she said in a whisper. "It's something I haven't told anyone else!"
"Of course tell me!" He took her two hands into his, holding them up against his heart.
"Well--it's a secret, you know--I--I--" She raised her face in sudden pleading. "Promise you won't be cross, Trevor."
"Well, I'm afraid it's rather bad of me. I haven't been paying for things lately. I simply couldn't. London is a dreadful place for spending money, isn't it? It's all quite little things, but they mount up shockingly. And--and--Aunt Philippa is bound to give me some money presently for my--my trousseau. So I thought--I thought--" She came nearer to him; she laid her cheek coaxingly against his breast. "Trevor, you said you wouldn't be cross."
He put his hand on her bright hair. "I am not cross, dear. I am only sorry."
Chris was inclined to be a little tearful. She did not quite know what had led her to tell him--it had been the impulse of a moment--but it was a vast relief to feel he knew.
"I'm not a very good manager, I'm afraid," she said. "But there are certain things one must have, and they do add up so. I believe it's the odd halfpennies and farthings that do it. Don't you ever find that?"