149CHAPTER XVII
Esther had spent a week indoors with a cold, and it was the longest she could ever remember. June was kindness itself, and fussed and petted and made much of her, but the days dragged.
There was only one thing to live for––the post! And though the rat-tat rang through the house three or four times a day, there was never anything for Esther.
Her own letter to Paris remained unanswered. The telegram for which she longed never came.
June watched her with a mixture of sympathy and impatience.
What was the good of putting all one’s eggs in the same basket? she asked herself crossly. What was the good of falling in love if nothing better than unhappiness ever came of it? She began to hate the phantom lover, as she called him, with increased hatred.
“I don’t think you’re strong enough to go yet, you know,” she said to Esther one afternoon when they were sitting together in the firelight. “Write and tell Mrs. Ashton you can’t come for another week, or that you can’t go at all. I do wish you would.”
Esther shook her head.
“I promised to go, and I must do something. I shall be all right by Monday. Mrs. Ashton has waited long enough as it is.”
She looked pale and ill, June thought angrily, and put it all down to “that man.”
“Has Mr. Mellowes come back from Paris yet?” Esther asked suddenly. June was faintly amazed; Esther never spoke of Micky. She answered rather dubiously that she did not know.
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“I expect he’s having such a good time that he’ll stay for weeks,” she added. “I wish he would come back, I want him to get on with my business....”
“Mr. Mellowes....” announced Lydia at the door.
June scrambled to her feet with a scream of delight.
“Micky! you villain! we were just talking about you. When did you come back? Why haven’t you been before? What have you been doing?”
She dragged him over to the fire; she fussed over him and told him he was just in time for tea.
“Esther’s been indoors a week with a cold,” she explained. “No, don’t you get up, Esther. Micky won’t mind....” She pushed Esther back amongst the sofa pillows. “Poor darling! She’s really been quite ill,” she declared.
Micky said formally that he was sorry that she was not well, but that the weather was enough to kill anybody; he added that he had been in town since Sunday, but ...
“Four days, and you’ve not been to see me!” said June. “What a shame, to neglect us so!”
“I’ve been busy,” Micky defended himself; “I expected to hear you had gone to Mrs. Ashton’s,” he said to Esther.
She raised her eyes.
“No––I am going on Monday.”
“Oh,” said Micky blankly.
June had opened the door and was calling over the balusters to Lydia for hot water.
“And bring lots of it,” she said. “We’re thirsty....” She came back into the room. “The postman’s just come,” she said with a nod and a smile to Esther. “Lydia will bring our letters up if there are any.” She turned again to Micky. “Well, truant! And what have you been doing? Having a good time?”
“No, I have not,” Micky said decidedly. “Paris is not what it used to be, or I am not!” He laughed. “How’s the swindle?”
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June began to answer, but stopped as Lydia came into the room. She brought a jug of hot water. June danced up to her.
“No letters? I thought I heard the postman.”
“One for Miss Shepstone,” Lydia said smilingly.
Micky looked across at Esther––her whole face was transformed as she turned eagerly with outstretched hand.
There was a moment of silence, then she gave a little sigh of utter contentment. June sniffed inelegantly––Micky looked hard into the fire; his heart was thumping; that letter ought to have been delivered yesterday, he knew; it was cursed bad luck that it should arrive while he was here.
There was a little silence in the room while Esther opened it. She seemed to have forgotten that she was not alone. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her whole face tremulous.
June was bustling about, making a great clatter with the teacups. Micky got up and began to prowl round the room; his nerves felt jumpy. Because he knew so well who had written that letter he was sure every one else must know it too. Presently June nudged him as she passed. When he looked at her she made a little grimace.
“Isn’t it awful?” she said in a stage whisper.
Micky smiled stiffly.
“Can’t I help get the tea?” he asked. “Toast some buns or something?”
“There aren’t any to toast,” she told him. “Sit down and make yourself at home. Esther!”––she raised her voice elaborately––“are you going to have any tea, my child?”
Esther had come to the end of her letter; she folded it hurriedly and put it away; she cast a quick look at Micky, but he did not see it. June was chattering away.
“So Esther is going on Monday,” she informed Micky, “and I shall be left once more to my lonesome. I’m not at all sure that I shall stay on myself,” she added.152“It’s been so jolly having some one to share this room with me that I’m not looking forward to my own eternal company.”
There was a little silence.
“I may not go after all,” Esther said suddenly. There was a note of nervousness in her voice. She coloured, meeting June’s amazed eyes.
June screamed.
“Not go! Well, I never!” She sat down in a heap on the hearthrug staring at Esther. “I never knew such a girl,” she complained. “Micky, I appeal to you....”
But Micky was not going to be appealed to; he was stolidly stirring his tea.
“I suppose I can change my mind if I like?” Esther said.
“Oh, it isn’t you who have changed your mind,” June cut in ironically. “It’s something that phantom lover of yours has said in his letter. Own up, now.”
“Well, and if it is?” Esther demurred. “I suppose he has a right to say what he likes, hasn’t he?” But she was laughing as she spoke; she felt wonderfully happy and light-hearted. “I believe you’re jealous,” she declared.
“Jealous, indeed!” said June indignantly. Then suddenly she sighed. “Well, perhaps I am; who knows? What does he say? or mayn’t we ask?”
Micky had stopped stirring his tea; there was a sort of intentness about his big figure.
Esther looked at him, and suddenly she stiffened.
“Never mind what he says,” she answered defensively.
June laughed.
“Oh, all right––sorry if I was inquisitive.” She deliberately turned and began talking to Micky; Esther was left to herself, but she did not mind, she had enough now to think about. The longed-for letter had come at last.
She woke from her reverie with a start when Micky rose and said he must be going.
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“And don’t you be so long before you come and see me again,” June said in her downright way. “And don’t go without that sample, Micky––it will go in your pocket quite easily.” She darted off to her room to fetch it, and Micky moved a step nearer to Esther.
“You have had good news?” he said.
She looked up startled.
Micky’s eyes flamed.
“That being so, of course, it is useless for me to ask if you have changed your mind yet?” he said again.
Esther gave a stifled cry.
“Are you trying to insult me?” she asked under her breath.
He half smiled.
“I am, if it’s an insult to ask you to marry me.”
There was no time for more. June came back then with her hands full of samples, which she proceeded to stuff into Micky’s pocket.
He submitted laughingly.
“Supposing I get run over!” he said resignedly. “People will think I’ve been robbing a beauty shop.”
“It will be a fine advertisement for me, anyway,” June declared. “Can’t you see all the halfpenny papers coming out with great headlines? Tragic Death of a Young Millionaire! Pockets Stuffed with June Mason’s Skin Food!” She laughed merrily. “That would be worth something, eh, Micky?”
“Heartless woman!” he answered. He turned to Esther. “Good-bye, Miss Shepstone.”
Esther was glad that he did not offer to shake hands with her; she was glad that June went to see him off. As soon as the door had closed on them she took her letter out again; she pressed the paper to her lips.
It was worth waiting for, worth the heartache and disappointment; she closed her eyes for a moment and thought of Raymond Ashton. How she must have misjudged him in the past. It did not seem true now that they had ever quarrelled, or parted in anger; that she154had ever been so unhappy that she did not want to live....
June came running up the stairs; she was singing cheerily; Esther smiled as she listened ... it must be wonderful to be always as happy and light-hearted as June.
“Well, dreamer?” said June. She shut the door with a little slam and came over to where her friend sat. “A penny for your thoughts.”
She looked at Esther’s flushed face in the firelight.
“And so everything is all right after all, eh?” she asked.
Esther nodded.
“And I’m not really going to Mrs. Ashton’s after all,” she said with a sort of shamefaced delight. “Only I didn’t want to say so in front of Mr. Mellowes.... Oh, aren’t you glad?” she asked anxiously.
“My dear, of course I am!” said June heartily. “But for the life of me I can’t understand how it is that this man of yours has got such an influence over you. He’s only got to hold up his little finger and you’re on your knees. I’m beginning to think he must be a kind of wonder after all.”
Esther did not answer for a moment.
“No,” she said. “He isn’t at all wonderful, really, except to me, and––and I love him, you see,” she added shyly. “I suppose every man is wonderful to the woman who loves him.”
“Until she’s his wife,” said June tartly. “And then she thinks he’s all sorts of an idiot, and tells him so.”
But Esther was too happy to take her seriously.
“You’ve never been in love,” she said, “or you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“And I never wish to be in love, thank you,” said June. “If you and Micky are samples of objects who are in love....” She made a little grimace, screwing up her nose in disgust.
Esther coloured.
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“Micky!” she said, surprised into using his Christian name. “Is he in love? How do you know he is?”
“I’m not a bat, and I haven’t known Micky years for nothing. He hasn’t been himself for a long time. I’ve seen it, though I haven’t said a word. He’s in love right enough, there can’t be any other explanation, seeing that he’s too rich to ever be in debt, and they are the only two things that ever make a man miserable,” she added.
Esther wondered if June was trying to sound her.
“I don’t know who the wretched female is,” June went on, puckering her brows. “I’ve tried to guess, but it’s no good. There was a Miss Deland he used to go about with at one time, but I know that’s all off.”
“Was he engaged to her?”
“No––not really! But her people wanted it, and Micky didn’t mind; he’d have drifted into it sure enough if something very tremendous hadn’t happened to make him change his mind. I know Micky––he’d have slipped into matrimony as easily as he gets into a taxi, unless some one had turned him away from it.” She glanced down at the letter in Esther’s lap. “Tell me what he says,” she coaxed. “Take pity on a poor creature who hasn’t a phantom lover of her own, or a real one either,” she added laughing.
Esther hesitated.
“I’m never quite sure whether you’re laughing at me or not,” she said nervously. “I know you don’t mean to, but–––”
June laid her hand on Esther’s lap.
“I laugh at every one and everything,” she said. “But it’s only my way, and doesn’t mean anything. Perhaps I’m a bit jealous––because you love this phantom lover so much better than you love me,” she added.
Esther drew the letter from its envelope.
“I’ll read you just a few little bits,” she said shyly. The blood surged into her pretty face.
June leaned back in a corner and closed her eyes. She156held a cigarette between her lips and puffed at it lazily. There was a little silence; then Esther said suddenly––
“I can’t. It makes me feel too self-conscious. But he just says that he doesn’t want me to go into any berth just yet. He says that he may be home very soon now....”
“Oh!” said June chagrined. “And then, of course, you’ll be married and live happily ever after....”
“Yes,” said Esther. “I hope so.”
June opened her eyes.
Charlie, curled up on his cushion, started to purr lazily. Presently June flopped down on her knees beside him and began stroking his head.
“You’ll let me have Charlie when you’re married, won’t you?” she said suddenly. “I am sure the phantom lover won’t want him.”
Esther did not answer; she hated herself for remembering that Raymond had once said he loathed cats.
“I told you how Micky went into a pond after a drowning kitten, didn’t I?” June asked reminiscently. “I should have loved him for that alone, if for nothing else....”
Esther made no comment. She moved a little, and the letter slipped from her lap to the floor.
June picked it up.
“Or is it sacrilege to touch it?” she asked teasingly. She laid it on Esther’s lap.
“Well, I couldn’t help seeing the writing,” she said, after a moment. “And, do you know, it’s awfully like Micky’s! If I hadn’t known it wasn’t his I should have declared it was,” she said rather disconnectedly.
Esther grabbed the letter up.
“Well, it isn’t his, anyway,” she said sharply.
June laughed.
157CHAPTER XVIII
Esther wrote to Mrs. Ashton that same night and told her she must regretfully decline the offered position; she gave no reason, but she permitted herself a little sigh of regret when the letter was dispatched.
She would like to have gone; she would like to have seen Raymond’s home and to have got to know his mother, but it was his wish that she should not go.
She tried to believe that she was happy in the knowledge of his love, but in her heart she knew that she was restless and dissatisfied.
“If I had something to do I should be ever so much happier,” she told June again and again, and June quite agreed.
“It must be awful, killing time,” she said. “When I think of the life I used to lead at home before I started trying to improve people’s complexions, I wonder I didn’t go mad. Nothing but silly tea-parties and scandal.... Ugh! But all the same Micky and I agreed that you wouldn’t like being at Mrs. Ashton’s.”
“Micky!” said Esther scornfully. “As if I care what he thinks....”
June looked mildly amazed.
“Oh, all right,” she said smoothly. “I suppose I may mention his name sometimes, mayn’t I?” She began to laugh. “Do you know that for once in my life I’ve been totally wrong with regard to you two? I was so sure you’d more than like each other––I even thought it quite possible that Micky might fall in love with you––you’re so exactly suited to him.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Esther drily. “I’m sorry I can’t oblige you by agreeing.”
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June said “Humph!” She yawned. “All the same,” she added after a moment, “I’m convinced that things would have been different if it hadn’t been for that phantom lover of yours; you’re so crazy about him.” There was a touch of exasperation in her voice.
Esther flushed angrily.
“It’s absurd of you to talk like this,” she said. “Mr. Mellowes is the last man on earth I should ever have looked at, even supposing Raymond....” She had spoken the name before she was aware of it; in her momentary flash of temper the secret she had so carefully guarded escaped her.
It was too late to attempt to cover what she had said; she knew by the sudden expression of June’s face that she had heard.
There was a poignant silence, then June sat up with a little jerk.
“Of course, that’s let the cat out of the bag,” she said curtly. “And you let me run him down! How mean, how unutterably mean of you, Esther!... I can’t think now why I never guessed! Raymond Ashton!”
Esther had flushed scarlet.
“I never said that was his name,” she tried to defend herself. “It’s purely your imagination. And even supposing it is, do you think I mind what you say about him, or Mr. Mellowes either? Neither of you know him as I do, or you would never say such cruel, wicked things.” She stopped with a sob in her voice.
“Then it is Raymond Ashton?” June said gently. She got up and came over to where Esther was sitting. “Oh, I am sorry I said anything about him!” she cried impulsively. “You ought to have stopped me. How on earth was I to know?”
“I don’t care what you said; it’s all untrue,” Esther protested stormily. “Nothing you could ever say about him would influence me or make me feel any differently.”
June got up for a cigarette; when she was nonplussed159she invariably had to smoke; she took several agitated puffs before she looked at her friend again.
“Well, anything I said was in absolute innocence, you know that,” she said in distress. “I’d no more idea than the dead that you and he.... So that’s why he doesn’t want you to go to his mother?”
“He doesn’t know; I never told him it was to Mrs. Ashton’s––I just said I had had an offer of a berth. I suppose you are trying to make out now that he–––”
“Heaven bless the child!” June cried. “I’m not trying to make out anything! I’m struck all of a heap like! as Lydia says. So he’s the phantom lover, is he?... Well––I can’t find any words to suit the case.”
“He’s not a phantom lover,” Esther protested. “He’s a real lover, a very real lover.”
June stopped and took her hand.
“I’m not going to let you quarrel with me over him, no matter how badly you want to,” she said. “No man is worth two friends having a row over. I’m quite prepared to take him to my arms and love him if you do.... Oh, Esther, don’t look like that!”
There were tears in Esther’s eyes, and her lips were trembling. “You’re making fun of me,” she protested. “It’s unkind of you.”
June turned away; she wondered if perhaps, after all, she and every one else had thoroughly misunderstood Raymond, and if this girl’s warm championing of him was deserved.
“He’s not nearly good enough for her,” she was telling herself indignantly. “She’ll never really be happy with him.”
“I hope you won’t tell Mr. Mellowes, or any one else,” Esther was saying defiantly. “I don’t want my affairs talked over by every one.”
“I shall not tell any one,” June said quietly.
She stood looking down into the fire, and her face was troubled.
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Presently she walked to Esther, and, stooping, kissed her.
“I’m awfully glad I know,” she said. “It makes our friendship seem so much more real.”
Esther smiled faintly.
But June was ill at ease. She felt instinctively that things were not all right.
“It isn’t the man himself,” she told herself obstinately. “It’s some foolish, mistaken ideal of him that she has created.”
She wondered what he really was doing in Paris. Micky would know––he and Micky had been such great friends. There would be no harm in speaking of him to Micky, at least that would not be betraying any secret or confidence.
She rang Micky up the following morning. She made the excuse that she wanted to see him on business. She took him to lunch at her club.
“You don’t look well,” was her greeting. “What’s the matter, Micky?”
Micky frowned. If there was one thing he hated it was for any one to remark on his appearance. He answered brusquely that he had never been better in his life.
“By the way, I was going to write when you rang up,” he said. “I’ve got some tickets for a first night to-morrow. Would you care to come along and––and bring Miss Shepstone?”
June beamed. She liked going out with Micky.
“I should love it,” she said with enthusiasm. “I can’t answer for Esther, though.”
“Try to persuade her,” he urged carelessly. “I don’t suppose she’s been about much; it would do her good.”
“She told me she loves theatres,” June admitted; “but the trouble will probably be that she hasn’t got a dress.”
“A dress?” Micky echoed vaguely. “Can’t you lend her one of yours?”
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June laughed.
“My dear boy, she’s much taller than me and slimmer. ... However, I’ll see what can be done. Where shall we meet you?”
“I’ll call for you at seven. We’ll have some grub first.”
“Good! And if Esther won’t come?”
“Oh, well, if she won’t, you come along, of course; but try and persuade her.”
“She’s refused Mrs. Ashton’s offer, you know,” June said presently. She kept her eyes lowered; she felt self-conscious and guilty.
“Has she?” Micky did not sound particularly interested.
“Yes; the phantom lover objected, or something, and I think it’s just as well.”
“She said something about it when I had tea with you the other day.”
June nodded.
“So she did. I dare say that wretched Raymond would have tried to make love to her if she had gone,” she added deliberately.
“He’s away just now,” Micky said quickly. “I ran across him when I was over in Paris last week.”
June looked up quickly.
“Did you? What’s he doing there?”
“Nothing particular; he often goes over, you know.”
“I can’t stand that man,” June said, after a moment.
“No?” Micky’s voice was casual.
“I never could see why you were so thick with him,” she went on.
Micky laughed lazily.
“Perhaps because I haven’t your gift of second sight, my dear,” he said.
“I shouldn’t have thought it would need second sight to see what he is,” June declared.
She looked across at Micky and was surprised by the hard expression of his face. “I hate men who flirt,”162she added. “Micky, do you know that I’ve got a kind of feeling about Esther’s phantom lover that he doesn’t really exist?”
Micky sat up with sudden attention.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I mean that he isn’t really a tangible man,” she explained haltingly.
Micky laughed.
“Oh yes, he is,” he said.
June caught her breath.
“You don’t mean––oh, do you mean that you know him?” she asked excitedly.
Micky met her eyes with a faintly ironical smile in his own.
“Yes, I know him,” he answered hardily. “And so do you. My dear, I may be very green, but your careful questioning wouldn’t deceive a mouse.”
“Micky!” said June indignantly. She flushed all over her face, and her queer eyes blazed angrily. She really felt that she had a done a dreadful thing in having allowed him to guess.
“You needn’t look so upset,” Micky said. “You’ve not told me anything; I knew it long before you did.”
“When? How––oh, Micky, do tell me!”
“There’s nothing to tell. Ashton often spoke about her to me. I knew she was at Eldred’s, and––well that’s all,” he added lamely.
“All!” said June disappointedly. “But surely you know more than that! What do you think of him? Do you think he really cares for her? Oh, Micky, do you think he’s good enough for her?”
Micky looked away.
“I don’t know that it matters very much what I think,” he said drily. “She––she loves him apparently, and that’s all that counts, I imagine.”
“Yes, she loves him right enough,” June admitted gloomily. “It was quite an accident that she told me163his name, of course, and she made me promise not to tell any one, particularly you. I suppose because she knows that you and he were friends.”
“Possibly, if she does know. I rather doubt if Ashton said much to her about me, though. He used to keep things to himself a good deal.” He picked up the menu. “Aren’t you going to have anything more to eat? I thought you were hungry.”
“I’m not now; I’m too excited. Micky, when you saw him in Paris, didn’t he say anything, ask you anything? Oh, it all seems so extraordinary!”
“My dear girl, what could he ask me?” Micky objected gently. “I never discuss––Miss Shepstone with him, and he is not in the least likely to tell me his private affairs, and I’m sure I don’t want to know them.”
June was silent for a moment.
“Esther is laying up trouble for herself,” she said then. “Don’t you think she is?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” Micky maintained stolidly. “And if you take my advice, you won’t either. It never does to meddle with other people’s affairs.”
“But she’s my friend,” June objected hotly. “And do you mean to say that I have got to stand by and see her ruin her life?”
Micky shrugged his shoulders.
“She’s not married yet,” he said laconically. “Have some tipsy cake, will you?”
“No––I don’t want any more.”
“Well, I do. Waitress....”
It was a deliberate attempt to change the conversation, and June knew it; she sat back in her chair frowning.
She supposed Micky would not talk about Ashton because he was his friend; men were so absurdly loyal to one another.
“If you loved Esther as much as I do,” she said suddenly, “you wouldn’t stand by and say nothing while she goes and marries that man.”
Micky was prodding the tipsy cake with a fork.
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“She hasn’t married him yet,” he said stoically. “And if she’s happy–––”
“She isn’t, my good man! at least only in theory!” June declared. “It’s not Raymond Ashton she really cares for, but some wonderful person she thinks he is. She is looking at him through rose-coloured glasses.”
Micky smiled.
“That’s what most women do, isn’t it?” he asked. “My dear girl, don’t get so upset; I thought you wanted to bring me out to talk business.”
“This is business, my business at least, even if you’re not interested. No wonder you didn’t want her to go to Mrs. Ashton’s!”
Micky coloured.
“Well––I thought it would be better not, certainly.”
June regarded him severely.
“You’re a deep soul,” she said. “I never even guessed that you knew anything.”
“Why should you? And I don’t know anything. Can’t we talk about something else?” he asked plaintively.
It was getting on his nerves, this constant conversation about Esther.
“So you’ll come along to-morrow, eh?” he asked presently. “It’s a long time since we went for a little jaunt together.”
“I shall love it.” But June answered absently; her thoughts were still with Esther.
Silence fell. Micky had finished his tipsy cake and was leaning back in his chair, a cigarette hanging dejectedly between his lips. He had lit it, but it had gone out, and though matches stood beside him he made no effort to light it again.
June watched him across the table. He didn’t look a bit well, she thought. What was the matter with him?
“You know, Micky,” she said impulsively, “I had quite made up my mind that you and Esther were to fall in love with one another. It would have been ideal, wouldn’t it?” she asked wickedly.
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A little spasm crossed Micky’s face, but it was gone so quickly June could never be quite sure if she had not imagined it.
“Ideal,” he said quietly. “Shall we go?”
“I’ll let you know about to-morrow,” June said, as they parted. “I shall have to wear the same old purple frock I wore when you took me out last time; you won’t mind?”
“Not a bit, as long as you come; and ... let me know about Miss Shepstone. If she won’t come I’ll give the ticket away.”
“I’ll let you know,” said June vaguely.
She walked home deep in thought. So Micky had known all along? She was not quite sure that she was pleased with him for keeping the fact from her. They had been such pals, he and she; surely he might have trusted her and told her!
“I suppose I’m not to be trusted with a secret, though,” she thought with a comical sigh. “Look how easily I gave Esther’s away!”
Tea was ready when she got in, and Esther and Charlie sat curled up together in the firelight.
“I’ve got an invitation for us both to-morrow night,” June said, even as she opened the door.
Esther looked up eagerly; she had had rather a dull day of it.
“A theatre,” said June. “It’s from Micky. I tell you at once, so you shan’t throw cold water on it. He’s got some seats for a first night, and asks us both to go. What do you say?”
“I haven’t a dress,” said Esther promptly.
“I told him you’d say that,” June answered calmly, “and he said it didn’t matter––or something to that effect. Micky never notices what you wear,” she went on airily. “I’m going to wear an old purple rag that I’ve had for about forty years.”
Esther laughed. “I dare say I can buy one in time,” she said; she did not intend Micky to think she could166not afford a frock. “I think I should rather like to go,” she added shyly.
“Good!” June hid the amazement she felt. “Well, Micky’s going to call for us and take us out to dinner first. It’ll be a scrumptious dinner––Micky always does the thing in style!”
“It’s kind of him to ask me,” Esther said.
“Why?” June demanded. “Oh, you mean because you don’t like one another? But that wouldn’t trouble Micky; he’d take you out if he hated the sight of you, he’s so kind-hearted.”
“Thank you for a doubtful compliment,” said Esther.
She was making plans rapidly in her mind. Micky had never seen her well dressed.
“I had another cheque from Raymond this morning,” she said flushing. “So it will come in useful. I can get a ready-made frock––I shan’t look so bad.”
“You’ll look an angel whatever you wear,” said June affectionately. “I know a little woman just off the Brompton Road who’ll fix you up,” June said eagerly. “She’s got the tiniest shop, but it’s cram full of the sweetest things. She’s awfully nice, too.”
“I can’t afford much,” Esther said dubiously.
“She won’t charge you much,” June declared. “She’s a friend of mine. She has my creams on her counter. It’s a fine advertisement, you see. She gets lots of actresses and smart people in, and they ask what it is, and try a jar and send for more, and, there you are!”
Esther laughed.
“If she’s too expensive–––” she protested.
But she ended by paying much more than she had originally intended. There was such a gem of a frock––black velvet and a white transparent bodice.
“You look a duck!” June declared. “Doesn’t she, Fifine?”
But the mirror told Esther how charming she really looked without any further words.
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“I really ought not to have spent so much,” she said as they went home. “But it is rather nice, isn’t it?”
“Micky will be absolutely bowled over,” June declared. “I shall have to take a back seat all the evening.”
And Micky apparently was “bowled over,” judging by the look that crept into his eyes when he arrived and found Esther alone in the sitting-room.
June was late, as usual; she called out to him from her room that she wouldn’t be half a minute.
“There’s no hurry,” Micky answered quickly. He went over to where Esther stood, a little flushed and shy in her new frock.
“It’s very kind of you to come,” he said rather agitatedly. She looked up.
“It’s very kind of you to ask me,” she answered. She felt much more at her ease with him now. She knew that she was looking particularly pretty. “And it isn’t the first time we have had dinner together, is it?” she asked.
He answered eagerly that he was glad she remembered; he had almost thought she must have forgotten.
“No, I shall never forget that, though it seems so long ago since that night. I was unhappy then, but now....”
“But now?” he asked as she paused.
“Now everything has come right,” she told him. “You said you were sure it would, if you remember.”
His face changed a little.
“I am glad I was such a good prophet,” he said.
June came bustling in; she was flushed and breathless, and laden with flowers, fan, and gloves, all of which she dropped to the sofa.
“I’m quite ready. Esther, where’s my cloak? Do find it, there’s an angel. Oh, and my slippers––I’ve got everything else....”
But it was at least another ten minutes before they were in the taxi and racing away through the night.
“I’ve booked a table at Marnio’s,” Micky said. “I hope you like Marnio’s, June?”
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“I like anything to-night,” she told him. “I’m going to enjoy myself thoroughly, whatever happens.”
Micky glanced at Esther.
“And you, Miss Shepstone?” he asked rather nervously.
“Esther’s too excited to speak,” June answered for her. “Oh, are we here already?”
She led the way into the lounge of the big restaurant; Micky was well known here apparently.
“Every one in London knows Micky,” June whispered to Esther with a sort of pride. “Look at the attention he gets!”
Esther glanced at him; probably anybody with Micky’s money could get the same attention, she thought.
There were a good many people in the lounge; Esther looked at them interestedly. Some of the women were beautifully dressed, but the black and white frock held its own bravely.
“You look nicer than any of them,” June told her. “I knew––hullo!––Micky’s found a friend.” She looked across to where he was standing, and Esther followed her gaze.
Micky was talking to two ladies––one of them was young and rather pretty, and the other––Esther’s face flushed suddenly, and she bit her lip hard, for the other was Mrs. Ashton, Raymond’s mother.
169CHAPTER XIX
Esther unconsciously put out her hand and grasped June’s arm; she would have given anything had it been possible to run away. She saw Mrs. Ashton turn and look towards where they were standing, and in another moment she had crossed the lounge and was shaking hands with June.
“I was just inviting Mr. Mellowes to come and dine with us,” she said. “But he tells me he already has an engagement.” Her eyes smiled at June. “I suppose you are the engagement?” she submitted.
June laughed.
A string band was playing a ragtime tune when they entered the restaurant. To Esther’s unaccustomed eyes the room with its flowers and many lights was the most wonderful place she had ever seen. She kept close to Micky as he threaded his way through the small tables till he found their own, rather at the end of the room and away from the noisy band.
He put Esther into a comfortable chair and himself took her cloak.
“You don’t mind being left while I go back for June?” he asked hurriedly; “she seems to have got lost.”
Esther looked after him as he went quickly back down the length of the room. She liked him in evening dress. If only it had been Raymond instead!––she stifled a little sigh; she meant to enjoy herself this evening; she was not going to allow one single despondent thought.
June and Micky rejoined her almost at once.
“I thought some one had eloped with you,” June said laughingly. “Where did you get to? Micky, how hot this room is––I’m just stifling!”
She threw off her wrap and snatched up a paper fan from the table. Micky sat down between the two girls.
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“Miss Shepstone didn’t want to see Mrs. Ashton, I rather fancy,” he said coolly. He looked at Esther with a slight smile in his eyes. “I believe she was afraid Mrs. Ashton would demand a reason for having had her kind offer so cavalierly refused,” he went on banteringly.
Esther laughed.
“Yes, I believe I was,” she admitted. “I’m an awful coward over explaining things to people.”
“So am I,” said Micky drily. He was wondering how he was ever going to explain the most difficult occurrence of his whole life, and if, when he had done so, it would ever be believed.
He looked at Esther a great deal during dinner; he had never seen her so animated; her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed; she talked a great deal, and was particularly friendly to him; he was quite sorry when it was time to go on to the theatre.
As they left the restaurant he noticed that she kept close to him again, and that she looked anxiously round for Mrs. Ashton.
“It’s all right,” he said. “She’s upstairs in the gallery.”
She smiled. She thought he was very quick to understand her. Raymond had never seemed to understand things without an explanation. She wished he had been rather more like Micky in some ways; she wished––she looked up at Micky guiltily; how could she compare the two men?––the one whom she loved, and the other whom she did not even like!
They were late, and the curtain had risen when they were shown into their seats. The theatre was dark, and Esther could hardly see her way. She put out her hand with a smothered laugh and felt for Micky’s. “I can’t see,” she said.
His fingers closed about hers; such a little hand it felt. He wondered why she was being so kind to him to-night. He did not realise that she was enjoying herself so much that she felt on good terms with the whole world.