76
“Any news for me?” she demanded. “I hate worrying you so soon, but Esther’s given notice. She’s told Mrs. Elders that she can’t afford to stay on. I nearly shook her this morning. I asked her to let me help her for the time being. I even said that I would take five per cent. interest on the hateful money if she was so abominably proud, and she laughed! She cried the next minute and said I was much too kind to her, but she wouldn’t listen. What have you done?”
“Everything,” said Micky promptly. “In a couple of days––”
“My good man, that’s much too long to wait.”
“It’s the best I can do,” said Micky rather shortly. “And you’ll find it’s a good best if you’ll be patient.”
He heard the sigh she gave.
“Honest Injun!” he said seriously.
“Oh, very well. If you let me down, Micky–––”
“You won’t be let down,” Micky said.
June went back to Elphinstone Road with a heavy heart.
She was very thorough in her friendships, and it really seemed a terrible thing to her that Esther would not accept help.
She felt so genuinely fond of the girl herself that she could not understand the feeling of affection and confidence not being reciprocated; she went up to her room and tucked herself into the big armchair amongst the mauve cushions and smoked innumerable cigarettes. Charlie was asleep by the fire; he found his way upstairs now without invitation; he was beginning to get quite respectable-looking; he had lost his wild, scared look, and even his purr had taken on a sleekier, smoother sound.
June stared at him for some time, then suddenly she got up and went downstairs.
She knocked at Esther’s door, but there was no answer, and she went back to her own room dejectedly.
If only Esther were not so proud they might have such good times together! If only Esther had a little money77and could go shares with this room; but what was the good of wishing? She hurled one of the mauve cushions across the room, and after that she felt better.
She went down to lunch because she hoped Esther would be there, but she was not. The long room was rather empty, and June ate her cold meat and pudding hurriedly and went back upstairs.
It was getting dusk when she heard Esther come in; she waited eagerly, but the footsteps did not come on to her door. June threw another cushion across the room to keep the other company; it was her chief vent for anger or irritation.
“Confounded pride,” she said under her breath. She paced up and down for some minutes, then she caught Charlie up from his cushion and went downstairs to Esther’s room with him in her arms.
Her knock was answered immediately and Esther stood there in the doorway.
June spoke without looking at her.
“I’ve brought Charlie down––I thought if he stayed up in my room any longer you’d be wanting to pay me for his board and lodging.”
She thrust the cat into Esther’s arms and turned away.
She was feeling very sore; hers was such a generous nature that she could not understand why Esther could not see how glad she would have been to help her; she went back to her own room and slammed the door.
A moment later she was sorry for what she had done; twice she went half way down the stairs to apologise, then came back again.
“Do her good,” she told herself snappishly. “I’ve no patience with such silly pride, and as for you, my boy,” she stopped and shook her fist at Micky’s photograph, “if you don’t buck up and find her something....”
The two days dragged away. June purposely avoided Esther; she never went into the dining-room to meals, and Esther never came upstairs to June’s room; there was a kind of armed neutrality between them.
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Charlie, too, seemed to have been told to keep away, and June missed his lusty purr in the silent room.
She shed a few tears into the mauve cushions; she thought Esther was wilfully misunderstanding her; she wrote to Micky on the second day with a great deal of emphasis.
“Are you dead or asleep? Here am I, just living to hear from you, and you leave me without a word! Esther and I haven’t spoken for two days, not that you care, of course. You don’t believe in my friendships, I know, but it’s a very serious thing for me. I’m more fond of that girl than I’ve ever been of anybody, and now she’ll walk out of this house and my life, and it will be your fault....”
She knew this was unfair to Micky, but she knew that Micky would understand––Micky always understood.
But Micky frowned over the letter. Did she imagine he enjoyed sitting down here doing nothing? What pleasure did she suppose he was getting out of the whole thing?
He threw the letter into the fire. Something ought to happen to-morrow, anyway. The last two days had seemed like months.
To kill time he went round to the Delands. He felt a little nervous as he reached the house. It seemed an unconscionable time since he was last here. When the butler opened the door he felt an insane desire to say, “Good evening, Jessop! You’re still here, then.” Such a decade ago it seemed since Jessop had been wont to admit him without question and take his hat and coat.
But Jessop did not smile to-night, and did not move back an inch when he saw who was the caller.
Micky was nonplussed.
“Er––anybody in?” he asked awkwardly.
“No, sir; the mistress and the young ladies are all out, sir....”
“Oh!” There was a little silence; then Micky turned on his heel. “Well, good-night!” he said jerkily.
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He walked away, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. A few yards down the road he almost cannoned into a man he knew.
“Hullo, Philips! Where are you off to?”
Philips stopped.
“Hullo, Micky! Not coming my way? I’m going to the Delands. What’s up with you? Haven’t seen you for a week or more.”
“I’ve been seedy,” Micky said hurriedly. “And the Delands are out. I’ve just called there myself.”
“Eh?” Philips tried hard to see his face through the darkness. “Rot,” he said at last. “They’ve got a musical evening on––I had a special invite.”
Micky said nothing. This was a nasty blow; apparently the Delands were only “not at home” to him. Jove! he must have behaved caddishly. He walked on feeling very subdued. Had he quite lost his wits, he wondered, that for the sake of a girl who would have none of him he was willing to offend all his old friends? He tried to look at his behaviour from Marie Deland’s point of view. Yes, it must look pretty rotten, he was forced to admit.
He thought about it all the time he walked home. He asked himself honestly if this new game was worth the candle.
Esther loved another man.
Already she had shown him that she cared nothing for him or his friendship, and yet––yet––– Micky set his teeth. He had never wanted anything really badly in all his life before, but now he wanted this girl.
“I’m not done yet, anyway,” he told himself. “After all––let the best man win.”
He felt that he had decided a question of great importance as he went back to his rooms; it was a pleasant surprise to find Driver there; Micky beamed.
“You’ve got back, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man took Micky’s hat and coat, and turned to go.
80
Micky stared.
“Everything all right?” he asked, with a touch of anxiety.
“Yes, sir.”
“You posted the letter?”
“Yes, sir, and had it weighed....” There was a little pause.
“Is that all?” Micky asked. “Nothing else happened?”
The man raised his expressionless eyes.
“I should have got in this morning, sir, but we had a rough crossing, and I was ill–––”
Micky smiled.
“Poor old Driver!––anything else?”
“Yes, sir––I met Mr. Ashton in Paris. He seemed very surprised to see me there without you, sir.”
Micky’s face changed; he had not counted on this.
“Good Lord!” he said. “You didn’t tell him you–––?”
Driver raised his eyes.
“I never tell anybody anything, sir,” he said woodenly.
Micky breathed a sigh of relief.
“Good man.... He was alone, of course?”
“Alone at the hotel, but I saw him out driving twice with the same lady, sir.”
“You saw him out twice––driving with the same lady?” Micky echoed the man’s words vaguely. “All right––you can go.”
“Thank you, sir.” Driver departed, closing the door noiselessly.
Ashton had soon found consolation, Micky thought savagely. He wondered what Esther would say if she could know. What was Driver thinking about it all? Driver was safe as the Bank of England; but, all the same, it was not altogether pleasant to feel that he had had to give himself away to his valet.
He looked up at the clock. Past nine! So there would not be another post in to-night.
Esther had not answered his note, and two whole days had elapsed.
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Micky began pacing the room. Why had she so suddenly thrown him over, he wondered miserably.
He could not imagine what he had done to offend her.
He hardly knew how the days had passed since New Year’s Eve. He had not visited any of his old haunts or seen any of his friends. It almost seemed as if he had opened the book of a new life and forgotten about the old.
She might have answered his letter. Dash it all! he wasn’t just a bounder who had spoken to her for his own amusement. He kicked a hassock out of his way and went to bed.
If he didn’t hear in the morning, he would risk it and go round to see her. At the worst she could only have the door shut in his face....
“And even then–––” he told his reflection in the mirror fiercely, as he struggled with a stud. “Even then I’m not done––and I’ll show her that I’m not....”
June Mason was mixing perfume the following morning when a little knock came at her door.
She looked up from her work and listened; after a second she resumed her occupation briskly.
“Come in,” she said.
She did not raise her eyes when the door opened, though she knew quite well who had entered the room, and for a second Esther Shepstone stood on the threshold hesitatingly, then she spoke.
“May I come in?”
June Mason looked up with an exaggerated start; she was a picturesque figure at that moment in a big white overall, and with a scarf of her favourite mauve tied over her dark head.
She held a little phial in either hand, and there was a delicious faint smell of rose perfume in the room.
“You!” she said. “Gracious! I thought you were dead and buried long enough ago. Oh yes, come in....82You don’t mind me going on with my work, do you? I’m up to my eyes in it.... Sit down.”
But Esther stood where she was, the eagerness died out of her pretty face.
“I won’t stay if you’re busy,” she said. “I’ll come another time, but–––” she hesitated. Across the room the eyes of the two girls met, and June Mason promptly put down the two little phials.
“Come in and apologise, and so will I,” she said heartily. “There!” She reached up––Esther was taller than she––and gave the younger girl a sounding kiss. “There! I don’t often kiss people, so you can consider yourself flattered.” She dragged forward a chair and pushed Esther into it. “Now, what do you want, and where’s that Charlie? You’ve no idea how I’ve missed him. No––you stay there, and I’ll go and fetch him up.”
She darted off, and returned a moment later with Charlie in her arms. There were yards of mauve ribbon lying on the table and she cut off a length and tied it in a bow round his neck; then she kissed his head and dropped him on to his cushion. “There! Now, we’re quite at home again,” she said. “And now, fire away and tell me why you’re here.”
She packed all the dishes and boxes on to a tray, put them out of sight behind a screen and came back to the fire.
“Do you like this perfume? It’s something new! I’m trying to blend it with white rose. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Beautiful!” said Esther. She consented to have her chin dabbed. “What are you making now?” she asked.
Miss Mason chuckled.
“Oh, I’m only experimising, as Micky calls it,” she said lightly. “We don’t want to talk shop. You’ve got some news; I can see by your face that you have.”
Esther laughed and flushed.
“Oh, I have,” she said tremulously. “Such wonderful news.”
“Humph!” said June drily. “From the young man, of83course? Well, is he on his way home, and have you got to get a wedding dress in the next five minutes or something?”
“Oh no, it isn’t anything like that,” said Esther. There was a shade of regret in her voice. “But he’s in Paris––he says he’s not staying there, but he had to pay a business call.”
June gave a rather unladylike sniff, but Esther was too engrossed to notice.
“He seems to have been very lucky,” she went on. “He hadn’t got very much money when he went away, but he’s got some appointment now; he does not say what and....”––she gave a little excited laugh––“he says that he’s going to send me £3 a week for as long as he is away.... Isn’t it wonderfully good of him? I suppose I ought not to take it, but he says that if things had turned out as he hoped, we should have been married, and so ... you don’t think it’s wrong of me to take it, do you?” she asked anxiously.
June rose to her feet. She looked chagrined; she had been so sure that this man was a rotter, that it was a bit of a set-back to hear this news.
“You take it, my dear, and don’t be a goose,” she said promptly. “As he says, if you were his wife you’d take it, and as you’re going to be married, it’s quite the right thing if he’s well off that he should help you! I hope you won’t let your silly pride make you send it back; you’d only hurt his feelings.”
“I wouldn’t do that for anything,” Esther said quickly. “But it’s such a lot of money.”
“Rubbish!” said June. “Why, Micky Mellowes wouldn’t even stop to pick it up if he dropped it in the road.”
“We are not all millionaires like Mr. Mellowes,” Esther said sharply. “And he ought to be ashamed of himself if he really wouldn’t stop to pick it up.”
June laughed.
“Don’t you take things so literally, my dear,” she said.84“I know you don’t like Micky, though you’ve never seen him, but I’m going to ask him here to tea one day, if he’ll come–––”
“I don’t suppose he will,” said Esther. “Elphinstone Road wouldn’t be good enough for him, would it?”
June frowned.
“I don’t like to hear you talk like that about Micky! It’s not fair, when you don’t know him. I tell you he’s one of the best––and, anyway, as he’s a friend of mine–––”
Esther flushed.
“I’m sorry––I’d no right to have said anything about him at all; please forgive me.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” June said laconically. “But he isn’t a bit of a snob; he’d do anything in the world for anybody.”
Esther glanced up at his portrait on the shelf. She felt a trifle ashamed of what she had said; after all, Micky had been good to her in his own way, even if his own way had been patronising.
“And so I shall stay on here,” she said, after a moment. “And if you think you would still like me to share this room–––”
June pounced upon her.
“You darling! It’s too good to be true. Of course, I should love it! I’ll go and tell old Mother Elders straight away; it will put her in a good temper for a month.”
“She’s out,” Esther said quickly. “I went to tell her myself as soon as I got my letter.... It only came this morning.” She coloured sensitively beneath June’s quizzical eyes.
“And of course you’ve been devouring it ever since,” June said. “Well, and very nice too! There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll admit that I didn’t think somehow that he could be a very nice sort of person, this young man of yours. No, I don’t know why I thought so––just an idea of mine. I get hold of ideas like that. But85I’ve changed my mind now; I’m sure he’s a dear, or you’d never look so happy.”
“I should love you to see him,” Esther said with enthusiasm. “I’m sure you would like him. I don’t know his people, of course––I suppose if they thought he cared for me they’d be angry––but it doesn’t really matter, and I know he doesn’t care at all for his mother....”
June looked up from stroking Charlie.
“Now, I wish you hadn’t said that,” she said frankly. “No man can be really nice who doesn’t love his own mother.”
Esther looked distressed.
“But she’s horrid!” she said eagerly. “He has told me how horrid she is to him––really she is––and as he’s her only son–––” She stopped. “After all,” she went on, “there’s no law to make you like a woman just because you happen to be her son, is there?”
“It’s unnatural not to,” June answered shortly. “However, as neither of us know his mother, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. She may be a perfect old cat. Some women are.”
She wandered round the room to find a cigarette, and Esther sat looking into the fire.
She could not remember her own mother. But somehow she felt sure that, had she been living, she would have adored her.
She had never heard Raymond say anything nice of Mrs. Ashton––he had always spoken about her in a bitter, half sneering way.
She looked across to June timidly.
“Do you always judge people by what you call ‘instinct’?” she asked. “When I first knew you you told me that you felt sure you would like me before ever you saw me, and–––”
“And I was right,” June said triumphantly. “I nearly always am right when I get an instinct about anything. Micky says it’s all rot!––there I am, talking about him86again––it’s a habit, so don’t notice it! But even he has to admit how often I am right; I could give you dozens of instances.”
Esther did not pursue the subject; she was remembering how June had said that she had an “instinct” that Raymond was not nice.
“I think you’re the most original person I’ve ever met,” she said with a little smile.
June laughed.
“Eccentric, Micky says I am–––” she answered, then broke off with a comical look of despair. “You really must excuse me for everlastingly dragging him in,” she apologised. “As I said before, it’s a habit––and there goes the dinner gong. Are we going to feed here to-day?”
Esther rose from the chair.
“I am,” she said. “And I’m hungry, so I do hope there’s something nice.”
They went down together.
“Curry,” said June, sniffing the air critically. “The colonel will be pleased; he’s always telling us how they used to make curry in India, poor old chap! Though I don’t think any of us really believe that he’s ever been there.”
But the colonel was not there.
“He’s ill,” so young Harley told the two girls as they sat down at their table. “I went up to see him this morning, and he really looks ill.”
“You don’t look in exactly rude health yourself,” said June in her blunt fashion. She noticed that Harley looked at Esther a great deal, and she made up her mind to tell him at the earliest opportunity that Esther was engaged. June scented romance everywhere.
“They are the first violets I have seen this year,” Esther was saying, looking at a little bunch the young man wore in his coat.
He took them out eagerly and laid them down beside her plate.
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“Do have them, will you? I never wear flowers really, but a girl in the street begged me to buy them.”
Esther took them up eagerly.
“They are my favourite flowers,” she said. “And I haven’t had any given to me for––oh, for ever so long.”
It gave her a little pang to remember that Ashton had always brought her violets in the first days of their acquaintance. It was one of the many little attentions which he had gradually dropped.
“You’re not to let Mr. Harley fall in love with you, mind,” June said severely as they went upstairs after dinner. “He’s much too nice to be made unhappy––even by you,” she added affectionately.
Esther stared.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” she cried. “I never see him or speak to him, except at meal times.”
“I mean what I say,” June insisted. “Didn’t you see how he looked at you when you took his violets?”
Esther flushed with vexation.
“Why, what perfect nonsense!” she protested.
But June only laughed.
“Onlookers see most of the game,” she declared. “Aren’t you coming up to my room? Our room, I mean.”
“I’ve got to go out––I had an appointment at half-past two, but I’ll love to come to tea with you,” she added, seeing the disappointment in June’s face.
“Very well, then, four o’clock. But who is the appointment with? You won’t need to find a berth now. You’re a lady of leisure.”
“But I shall try all the same. I don’t mean to be lazy just because he’s so good to me. I shall save all I can. I went to an agency yesterday–––”
“They’ll rob you,” June protested. “They always do. I know what agents are,” she added darkly.
Esther laughed.
But if she had hoped great things from her call that afternoon she was disappointed. The thin, aristocratic-looking88person who owned the “Bureau,” as it was called, looked at her with coldly critical eyes, and said that she had no vacancies likely to suit her.
“But you told me to call,” Esther protested.
“Certainly; there might have been something,” was all the answer she received. “Call again to-morrow, if you please.”
Esther went out dispiritedly. There were so many girls of her own class and age in the bare waiting-room; she felt quite sure that they would all get berths before she had a chance.
She felt glad that she had June Mason to go back to. June was always sympathetic. She went straight upstairs to the sitting-room with the mauve cushions.
June opened the door before she had time to knock.
“I thought it was you. I heard your step. What’s the matter? You sounded dispirited as you came upstairs.”
Esther laughed.
“I believe you must have second sight, or whatever they call it. But you’re right this time; I am rather down on my luck. They haven’t anything at the agency to suit me. I–––” She stopped, looking past June into the cosy room to where a man had just risen from a chair by the fire––a tall man––who looked across at her with eyes that were half-abashed, half-defiant. Micky Mellowes.
89CHAPTER VIII
June introduced Micky and Esther with a sort of hurried self-consciousness. It was not by her invitation that Micky was here this afternoon, and the fact that she had asked him to help Esther embarrassed her.
“Mr. Mellowes––Miss Shepstone; you’ve both heard of each other, so I can leave you to entertain one another while I get tea.”
And she bolted out of the room.
Esther looked after her with angry eyes; she thought June might have stayed––she took a quick step forward to call her back, but Micky stopped her; he put a hand on the door above her head, shutting it fast.
“I’m going to speak to you, whether you like it or not,” he said.
She faced him angrily; she was very flushed.
“I don’t know what you mean. You’ve no right to speak to me like that. If Miss Mason has asked you here to meet me–––”
“June didn’t know I was coming. She has no more idea than the dead that we have ever met before. I haven’t told her, and I don’t suppose you have––or will,” he added grimly. “However, as we are alone, will you tell me what I’ve done to offend you? It’s not fair to take me for a friend and then fling me over as if I were an old glove.... If I’ve annoyed you, the least you can do is to tell me how and give me a chance to explain.”
Esther had walked back to the fire and Mellowes followed her. He knew that he had only got a few moments, and he meant to make the most of them.
“You refuse to see me or to allow me to take you out,”90he went on urgently. “And you haven’t even answered my last letter. If I have offended you–––”
“You haven’t,” said Esther, as he paused. “I’m not at all offended.”
“Then why, in the name of all that’s holy–––” he began again, in exasperation. She cut him short.
“You didn’t tell me the truth about yourself. You made out you were poor! You pretended to be some one quite different to what you are. You’ve a perfect right to, I suppose, if you wish, but I hate being deceived and treated like that. I suppose you think anything is good enough for me! Perhaps it is, but–––”
Micky brought his fist down with a bang on the back of the big armchair.
“I give you my word of honour, Miss Shepstone, that what I said was only because it seemed the best way to make you trust me. I had absolutely no other reason for pretending to––to––be anything but what I am. I know you’d have gone off at a tangent if I’d said I was unfortunate enough to be rich, I know–––”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“You didn’t even write to me from your real address––you just put a number.” She broke into an angry little laugh. “I suppose you thought I shouldn’t understand that a number can also be an expensive flat.”
Micky turned pale with anger.
“You’re deliberately trying to make out that I’m a bounder. It’s not fair––I don’t deserve it; and as to thinking anything good enough for you––I suppose you’d only take it as a fresh insult if I told you that there is nothing in the world I consider good enough for you.... I ... oh, what’s the good of arguing,” he broke out with sudden rage.
“It’s no good at all, and there’s nothing to argue about,” Esther said stiffly. She had taken off her gloves and was flattening them out nervously. “You offered me your friendship, and now I decline it. I suppose I am free to do so?”
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“No,” said Micky violently, “you’re not ... I––I ...” He turned away sharply, realising with dismay how nearly he had blurted out the truth about Ashton. After a moment he spoke more quietly.
“It is pure chance that brought me here. I have known June Mason for years; we are old friends. She has no idea that I have ever seen you before, but I will tell her this moment if you wish it–––”
She raised passionate eyes to his face.
“I will never forgive you as long as I live if you dare to,” she said stormily.
Micky frowned till his brows nearly met above his kind eyes.
“Whatever I say or offer to do is wrong, of course,” he said savagely. “If I had not offered to tell her, you would probably have said that I was ashamed of knowing you ... oh, good Heavens! whatever have I said now?” he added as he saw the hot blood rush to her face.
He went over to her and tried to take her hand. “Do forgive me; I beg of you to forgive me––I’m a clumsy idiot––but you don’t know how hurt I’ve felt about being turned down in this way.”
“It’s absurd to feel hurt––I haven’t turned you down; I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that I have. Why I––I hardly know you,” she added with a little angry laugh.
Micky turned away; he stood staring down into the fire; neither of them spoke again till June returned.
She carried a tray of cakes and hot toast; she set it down with a thump on the round table by the fire.
“I coaxed it out of Mrs. Elders,” she explained breathlessly. “I generally keep some cake up here myself, but I haven’t got a bit to-day. Esther, fetch the cloth, there’s a dear; and, Micky, you put the kettle on––I have filled it.”
She bustled about, talking the whole time; if she noticed the constraint between the other two she said nothing till tea was ready, and she sat down amongst the mauve cushions with a breathless sigh.
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“Now we’re going to be cosy. Well, and how have you two been getting on? Micky, I’ve told Esther so much about you, she’s sick to death of the sound of your name.”
“I never said so,” Esther protested quickly.
“Have some cake,” Micky said; he deposited a slice on June’s plate and adroitly changed the subject. He was furiously angry; he had not believed that Esther had it in her to turn on him as she had done. But the more she snubbed him, the more determined he was not to be snubbed. As he sat there stirring his tea and listening to June’s chatter he was watching Esther all the time.
She had taken off her coat now. He wondered if it was the coat his money had bought her; it was not half good enough, anyway. He thought of the furs and expensive gloves which Marie Deland wore, and he longed to be able to give some to this little girl who sat there with such angry defiance in her eyes.
He realised that this pride of hers was going to be the hardest barrier of all between them.
She could not forgive him because he was a rich man and had pretended to be poor; she could not forget that he had paid for her dinner and a saucer of milk for the cat. He looked down to where Charlie sat blinking in the firelight, and a little smile crossed his face. He wondered if perhaps some day soon she would offer to repay him for that night––if she would insist on doing so, as she had insisted on paying her share of everything with June.
“More tea?” June demanded across the table, and Micky said, “Oh––er––yes, thanks,” hurriedly. As long as the meal was unfinished Esther would have to stay in the room, he thought; she could not very well leave before; but in this he was mistaken, for Esther put her cup down almost at once and looked at June.
“Will you think me very rude if I run away?” she asked. “I’ve got to see Mrs. Elders and tell her I am staying on––I think she has been trying to let my room.”
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June looked disappointed. “Oh, well, if you really must go,” she said. “Come back when you’ve seen her.”
“Thank you,” said Esther. She turned to Micky, who had risen. “I won’t say good-bye, then,” she said with an effort to speak lightly.
He held open the door for her, and a moment later she had gone. As soon as he came back to his chair June rounded on him.
“What have you said to annoy her?” She looked quite angry! “I wanted you to like each other. Really, Micky, you are the limit! She won’t come back again, you see if she does.”
“No,” said Micky. “I don’t think she will.” He laughed a rather chagrined laugh. “I haven’t said anything as far as I know,” he added. “It’s what you’ve said, I fancy. You’ve fed her up with accounts of what a wonderful person I am.”
“So you are,” said June.
He frowned.
“It’s kind of you to think so, but I don’t know anybody else who shares your opinion.”
“Well, I can’t help the world being full of idiots, can I?” she demanded in exasperation. “And, Micky, why did you come here to-day? When I asked you before you said you didn’t want to come; you’ve soon changed your mind.”
“I came to tell you about Miss Shepstone. You asked me to get her a berth....”
June laughed.
“My dear boy, you’re too late! She doesn’t want your help now, or mine either, for that matter,” she added ruefully. “She’s a lady of means––that wonderful man of hers who’s tucked up in Paris having the time of his life is going to allow her three pounds a week.”
She paused and looked across at him expectantly.
“Well, why don’t you look surprised?” she asked.
Micky swallowed hard.
“I am surprised!” he said. “Too jolly surprised for94anything. It’s good news, eh? I suppose she was pleased....”
“Of course she was! She’s staying on now, and is going to share my room. She had a qualm just for a moment, as to whether she ought to take the money, but I soon put her mind at ease. ‘Take all you can get, my dear,’ I said. After all, I dare say if the man’s giving her three pounds he could afford to give her about double that amount; men are not particularly generous from what I know of them––except you, Micky....”
Micky got red.
“But three pounds a week is enough to live on? Don’t you think it is?” he asked, with a touch of anxiety in his voice.
“It’s enough to live here on,” June admitted. “But it’s not great wealth. Still, she’s going to get a berth as well, so perhaps, after all, the one you’ve heard of will suit her. What is it?”
Micky was stooping, patting Charlie’s head.
“It’s in an office,” he said, after a moment; his voice sounded a little uncertain. “I don’t think it would really suit her, though––now I’ve seen her,” he hastened to add. “It would be too hard work––late hours and all the rest of it, dontcherknow.”
June looked at his bent head shrewdly.
“Humph!” she said. “Perhaps it’s just as well this phantom lover of Esther’s has turned up trumps, if that’s all you’d got to offer her.”
“Phantom lover!” said Micky; his voice sounded as if he were annoyed. “Whom are you talking about?”
“Esther’s beloved,” June said airily. “She won’t tell me his name, so I call him the phantom lover, because I’ve got an eerie sort of feeling in my mind about him that he doesn’t really exist. What do you think, Micky?”
“My dear girl, how can I possibly know?”
June produced some cigarettes.
“If he were all that she’d like me to believe he is,” she said shrewdly, “she’d tell me more about him. She95certainly got a bit more confidential to-day, and said that he had a cat for a mother and a few things like that. She had another letter from him this morning; he’s in Paris––on business, so he tells her.” She laughed, turning her face for a moment against the mauve cushion. Suddenly she sat upright again, “Micky, I should hate that man if I knew him!”
Micky smiled.
“Another of your ‘instinctive hates’?” he asked whimsically.
She nodded.
“I know you don’t believe in them, but....”
“Don’t I?” said Micky thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure.” He looked at his watch. “Well, I must be trotting. There’s nothing else I can do for you, I suppose? No more waifs who want billets...?”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not––I never laugh at you.” He laid his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “Don’t bother to get up; you look so comfortable ... Good-bye–––”
“Good-bye––and, Micky, don’t make up your mind not to like Esther just because of this afternoon.”
“My dear, I never thought of such a thing,” he protested lamely.
June snuggled more cosily into the cushions.
“Ah, but I know what you are,” she said, for once hopelessly on the wrong track.
Micky laughed to himself as he went down the stairs; he wondered if he was getting clever, or if June was not so quick to see a thing as he had believed, that she had not noticed the constraint between himself and Esther.
He looked about him eagerly as he went out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Esther, but the house seemed deserted, quite different from what he had pictured it to be. He had always thought that a London boarding-house must be noisy and crowded and perpetually smelling of soap and cabbage water; he was relieved to find that this was fairly comfortable and quiet.
96
He picked up a taxicab at the corner of the road and was driven back to his flat. He felt very depressed. Everybody seemed to have interests in life except himself. He wished he had got married years ago and settled down. He thought of Marie Deland with remorseful affection. Here was another woman who must be thinking him a positive outsider. How in the world did a man put an end to a flirtation that was growing rapidly into something else without hurting a woman’s feelings, he wondered.
Ashton had accomplished it quite successfully several times. Micky sighed, and let himself into his flat.
There were several letters lying on the table; he flicked them through disinterestedly; then he stopped––the last one was from Ashton.
Micky stood for quite a minute staring down at the handwriting, which he had been at such pains to copy. Then he ripped open the envelope.
Ashton wrote from Paris:––
“Dear Mickey,––Just a line to send you my address, as promised. Hope things are going well with you. I am staying on here for the present, as I have run up against Maisie Clare––you remember her, Tubby Clare’s little widow? My son, she’s got pots of money, and at the present moment things are looking promising! The mater would be pleased if I could manage to pull it off. By the way, I dare say Driver told you I met him the other day––he was very mysterious and hadn’t a word to say! Surely he wasn’t joy-riding over here by himself? Remember me to every one.––Yours,R. F. Ashton.”
“Dear Mickey,––Just a line to send you my address, as promised. Hope things are going well with you. I am staying on here for the present, as I have run up against Maisie Clare––you remember her, Tubby Clare’s little widow? My son, she’s got pots of money, and at the present moment things are looking promising! The mater would be pleased if I could manage to pull it off. By the way, I dare say Driver told you I met him the other day––he was very mysterious and hadn’t a word to say! Surely he wasn’t joy-riding over here by himself? Remember me to every one.––Yours,R. F. Ashton.”
And not one word about Esther! Not a single mention of the girl who was thinking of him night and day, and only living to see him again.
Micky crushed the letter and tossed it into the fire. That settled it, he told himself; he no longer had the slightest compunction in cutting Ashton out; the fellow was not worth a moment’s consideration.
97CHAPTER IX
Esther trudged to and fro from the agency where the stiff and stately lady presided so many times during the next few days that she began to hate the sight of the tall building and the dark stairs covered with worn linoleum.
Every day the waiting-room seemed crowded with girls, many of whom were a great deal more shabby and hopeless looking than she was, and they all sat patiently on the wooden chairs and eyed one another with a sort of jealous suspicion till their turn came to pass within the magic portal which guarded the stiff and stately lady from the vulgar gaze.
“I told you an agency wouldn’t be any good,” June Mason said when Esther came home after another fruitless journey. “They take your money and forget you till you turn up to remind them that you’re still in existence. Give it up, my dear, and come into partnership with me. I should love to take you round to all the big stores and tell them that you owe your milk and rose complexion to my famous cream.” She burst out laughing. “Can’t you imagine it! Esther, you and I ought to tour the country in a caravan or something. Call ourselves the new Sequah.” She rolled over in the big chair and hid her face in the cushions.
Esther laughed; she felt quite at home now in June’s room. There were a few of her own possessions lying about, and she had bought Charlie a new cushion of his own. It gave her a sense of independence to know that she was paying her share of everything.
“I shall get something if I wait long enough,” Esther said presently. “Do you know, I rather think I should like to be a companion, after all. I told Mr.–––” She98stopped; she had been about to add that she had once told Micky how she would hate it.
“It might not be so bad,” June admitted; “but you want some one with pots of money and a good temper.”
She looked at Esther consideringly.
“There wouldn’t have to be any eligible sons either,” she said bluntly. “You’re much too pretty–––”
Esther laughed.
“What nonsense!”
June dragged Esther to her feet and made her look in the glass.
“Now dare to call it nonsense––look at yourself,” she commanded.
But Esther only looked at June.
“Next to you,” she began, but June cut her short.
“If you’re going to try blatant flattery,” she said.
They both laughed at that.
Some one tapped at the door; Lydia, the smiling housemaid, appeared; she looked at the two girls with a sort of parental expression; she was very fond of them both, and never minded how late or how hard she worked to do little extra jobs for either of them. It was her greatest pride to stay in when her “evening out” came and help June label the little mauve pots; she recommended the famous cream to all her friends; she was as proud of it as if it were her own invention.
She carried a note on a tray now, which she handed to Esther.
“I found it on the hall table, Miss,” she said. “It must have been left by messenger.”
She waited a moment to make up the fire and tidy the hearth; she was always glad of an excuse to stay in the room; she was never tired of telling her friends what a pretty room it was––she loved the mauve cushions and the many photographs.
She went away with a reluctant backward look. June yawned.
“Another love-letter?” she asked chaffingly. She looked99across at Esther, and was surprised to see the embarrassment in the girl’s face.
“It’s from Mr. Harley,” she said, in distress. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve never let him think I–––” She handed the letter to June. “He wants me to go to a theatre with him,” she added in confusion.
“Well, I should go,” said June promptly. “You don’t get much fun, and the man knows you’re engaged, and if he likes to chance it–––”
“But how does he know I’m engaged? I’ve never told him.”
“I did,” June said calmly. “I saw the way the wind was blowing and told him to save complications.” She made a little grimace at Esther. “And after this note are you still going to declare that he isn’t more than ordinarily interested? Esther, you’re the most unsuspecting baby––– Say you’ll go, of course. There’s no harm in it.”
“I certainly shall not go,” Esther said; “I don’t want to, for one thing, and, for another, it would not be fair–––”
“You mean to Mr. Harley?” June asked.
“Yes, and to–––”
“To the phantom lover! Oh, I see!” said June drily.
Esther coloured.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said with a touch of dignity.
“Oh yes, you do,” June declared. “Don’t look so angry! What am I to call him, pray? You haven’t told me his name.” She waited, but Esther did not speak. “Of course, if you’d rather not,” she added, rather stiffly.
Esther got up and came over to sit on the arm of her chair.
“It isn’t that I don’t want you to know, but––well, I promised him not to tell any one; you see, his people would be furious if they knew. After all, I suppose I’m not anybody, and–––”
June pushed her away.