171
Esther sat between him and June, and Micky hardly looked at the stage at all. His eyes turned again and again to her rapt face and the eagerness of her eyes.
She had been to theatres lots of times, so she told him in a whisper, but never in the stalls before. She asked him if he didn’t like some of the frocks worn by the people close by.
Micky’s eyes flashed.
“Not so well as yours,” he said.
She drew away from him a little, and he wished he had not said it. In that one moment he felt that he had broken down all the friendliness she had shown him that evening. She did not speak again for some time.
In the interval June leaned over to him.
“Are you bored, Micky? You look bored to death.”
Micky stifled a sigh.
“No,” he said rather wearily.
His eyes wandered round the crowded house. There were several people in the stalls whom he knew. He noticed that people were looking at Esther, and he felt a little thrill of pride.
They were wondering who she was, of course. He wished with all his heart that he could stand up in his seat and announce to an interested world that she was the woman he intended to marry.
When the light went down again Esther leaned a little closer to him.
“Mr. Mellowes–––” she said.
“Yes.” Micky bent his head towards her eagerly. He could hear her agitated breathing, hear too the little quiver in her voice when she spoke.
“Did you see who was in that box on the right?––the lower box.... I thought it was Mrs. Ashton.”
Micky answered casually that very likely it was.
“Odd, eh,” he said, “that we should dine at the same place and have tickets for the same show?”
Esther said “Yes––yes” twice in nervous hurry.
There was something strained and unnatural about her,172and though Micky could not see her face clearly he knew that something had happened to distress her.
“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Is anything the matter?”
She shook her head.
“No.... No.”
She sat very still till the curtain fell again, but Micky had the feeling that she was not paying the least attention to what was going on on the stage, and he knew that her eyes turned again and again to the stage box. What was she afraid of, he asked himself in perplexity, even if Mrs. Ashton did see her and recognize her, surely––then in a flash he knew ... the light had been turned up suddenly, and in that moment he saw the figure of a man move quickly from the front of the box to the screen of the curtains.
Micky gripped the arms of his seat; for the moment he could not move.
It was Raymond––he knew it as certainly as if he had been told.
No doubt he had seen Esther, whilst she ... poor child! Had she seen him too?
He looked down at her; she was sitting up stiffly, her hands clasped in the lap of the new frock of which she had been so innocently proud; her face was as white as the soft tulle of her sleeves, and her eyes were fixed on the box with its velvet curtains where Mrs. Ashton sat laughing and chatting with a girl in a pink frock.
They both turned from time to time to some one who stood behind them in the shadow; once the curtains moved a little and a man’s hand and arm showed distinctly.
Micky could bear it no longer; he touched Esther’s clasped hands.
“Are you ill?––would you like me to take you out?”
But she shook her head.
“No, no ... please leave me alone.”
June had discovered a friend in a seat a row or two173ahead with whom she was trying to carry on a conversation; she had no eyes for Micky or Esther. Micky gave a sigh of relief when the lights were lowered again; he could feel all that Esther was suffering, he could put himself in her place so thoroughly.
If he went round to the box and made sure if it were Ashton, perhaps that would be the best way; he could manage to give him the tip then to keep out of the way. He half rose in his seat, but Esther moved at once, laying her fingers on his arm.
“Oh, don’t go––don’t leave me here,” she said tremulously.
It was not the man himself she wanted, but his presence somehow gave her a feeling of confidence; if, indeed, it was Raymond up there in the box. She tried to argue herself out of the fancy; he would have let her know if he had come to London––surely she would have been the first to whom he would have come; she was mad to ever think the man up there in the background could be Raymond.
But the conviction was there in her mind.
“It is he––I know it’s he,” something in her heart was saying over and over again obstinately.
The rest of the play seemed endless; she rose with a quick breath of thankfulness when it was over.
“You are in a hurry,” June said. “Haven’t you enjoyed it?”
“Yes, oh yes, but it’s hot––I want to get out.”
Micky was deliberately being as slow as he could––he blocked the way out obstinately; the stalls were almost empty when at last they left them.
June touched his arm.
“Micky––is––Esther ill? Look how white she is.”
Esther was some little way ahead of them; she seemed to be trying to get out as quickly as possible.
“It’s too hot for her, poor darling!” June said. “Micky–––”
Micky laughed savagely.
174
“It’s not that,” he said, “but Ashton was up in that box with his mother, and she saw him.”
“Micky–––” He silenced her with a frown. He followed Esther as quickly as he could, but she was outside in the cold night air before he overtook her. There was a crowd here too––rows of cars and carriages outside, and women in thin evening frocks and furs shivering in the cold wind.
Micky drew Esther’s hand through his arm.
“We shall find our cab this way, I think,” he said evenly.
He had seen Mrs. Ashton only a few yards away, and he dreaded every moment that Esther would see her, and see, too, who was with her.
A sudden block in the crowd momentarily hindered them, and in that second a man’s light laugh rang out above the noise and chatter of voices.
Micky felt the girl beside him give a convulsive start. She tried to drag her fingers from his, but he held them fast.
The crowd was moving again now; a second, and Raymond and his mother were lost to sight.
Micky had slipped an arm round Esther; he was white to the lips. He knew now how near he had been to discovery and the wreck of all his hopes. He tried to pretend that he did not understand the cause of her agitation. He looked down at her.
“Better now you’re in the air?” he asked. “It was hot in the theatre. I––Esther–––”
She had swung heavily against him, and looking down in sudden alarm, Micky saw that she had fainted.
175CHAPTER XX
Looking back to that night at the theatre it always seemed to June Mason that she had been most extraordinarily blind in not seeing before that it was Esther for whom Micky Mellowes cared.
One glance at his face as he lifted the girl in his arms told her more than any words would have done; there was a sort of indescribable rage and pain in his eyes as he looked down at the white face lying against his shoulder.
People gathered about them, curious and sympathetic. June heard some one say that it had been so “deuced hot in the theatre, no wonder people fainted,” but she knew all the time that it was nothing to do with the heat; she stooped mechanically and picked up Esther’s gloves which had fallen from her nerveless hand before she followed Micky back into the foyer, where he laid Esther down on one of the long velvet lounges.
Afterwards she realised that the sudden discovery that Micky loved her friend had been something of a shock to her, that she had even been faintly jealous; she did not want to marry him herself, and yet they had been such good friends, it gave her an odd little pain to think that there was somebody else whom he placed a long way ahead of her in his heart.
Most of the people had gone, one or two of the theatre attendants lingered; it seemed a long time before Esther opened her eyes. She lay for a moment, looking vaguely about her, then her eyes came back to Micky, who was bending over her, his face scarcely less white than her own.
She made an effort to lift herself from his arm; then quite suddenly she burst into tears.
The little sound of sobbing broke the spell that seemed,176to have held June; she went down on her knees beside her, both arms round the slender, shaking figure.
Micky had risen to his feet. June glanced up at him.
“Go and find the taxi and leave her to me,” she said sharply. The look of suffering in his face hurt her. Micky went out into the cold night bareheaded. He hardly knew what he was doing. He stood for some minutes on the path forgetting why he had come out at all, before some one, jostling against him, brought him back to a sense of time and place.
He went down the road to look for a taxi. When he came back Esther was sitting up, wrapped in her cloak. She was not crying now, but she looked like a child who wants to cry but is determined not to.
June was standing beside her.
“We’re quite ready,” she said. She kept an arm about Esther, and Micky followed them silently.
He saw them into the cab, but did not follow. June asked a sharp question: “Aren’t you coming?”
“No––at least, not if you can manage without me.” His voice sounded unnerved; he looked away from June to where Esther was huddled into a corner beside her, and suddenly, as if urged by an impulse he could not control, he leaned forward, groped for her hand in the darkness, and, bending, kissed it passionately.
A moment later he had stepped back and shut the door.
He stood looking after the cab till it vanished round a corner, then he went back to the theatre for his hat and coat, and set off again down the road.
He was not conscious of any real emotion; but he walked swiftly as a man does who has a set purpose, and he did not stop till he found himself outside the Ashtons’ house.
It was not far off midnight, but lights burned in many of the windows, and after a swift glance at the face of the house he went up the steps and rang the bell.
It was some moments before the door was opened by177a mildly amazed-looking servant; Micky asked for Mr. Ashton.
“My name is Mellowes,” he said, as she obviously hesitated. “If you tell him my name he will see me. I know he is in, I saw him at the Comedy Theatre to-night.”
He stepped past the girl into the hall, and after a slightly scared glance at him she shut the door and departed upstairs.
A moment later Micky heard Ashton’s voice.
“You old night-bird! What an ungodly hour to call on any one! I was just going to bed; come in.”
He spoke easily, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes; he led the way into the library.
The fire was nearly out there and the room felt chilly; he shivered, and, stooping, tried to rake the cinders into a blaze.
Micky watched him silently; after a moment Ashton turned.
“Lord, man! what’s the matter? You look as cheerful as Doomsday.”
Micky was standing stiffly against the table.
“I saw you in the theatre to-night,” he began without preamble. “I was with Miss Shepstone, and she saw you, too––at least she believes it was you, and I am going to tell her that she was mistaken. How soon can you get out of town and back to Paris?”
Ashton stared; the colour had rushed to his face; after a moment his eyes fell.
“I don’t know what the devil you’re driving at,” he said irritably. “I suppose I can come to London without asking you first, can’t I? And, as for Lallie”––he grinned nervously––“well, you know as well as I do that that’s all been off for weeks.”
Micky stood immovable.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said flintily. “How soon can you get out of London?”
178
Ashton swore under his breath.
“I’m dashed if I know what you’re driving at,” he said sulkily. “If you like to take Lallie to theatres, that’s your business; she’s a nice little girl, I admit, but–––”
Micky took a step forward.
“If you want to make me forget that this is your mother’s house, you’re going the right way to do it,” he said between his teeth. “And I don’t want any of your bluff. Miss Shepstone thinks she saw you at the Comedy to-night; she’ll probably write to you or try to see you in the morning, and you’ve got to be out of London by then––do you hear?”
Ashton laughed; he shrugged his shoulders.
“Must?” he said nastily. “How long have you been Lallie’s champion?... Oh, all right, all right,” he broke off hurriedly, as he saw the ugly light in Micky’s eyes. “But it’s a bit thick, you know,” he resumed injuredly. “I’ve done with her; you know that. You sent my letter on to her yourself. It’s absurd if I can’t come back home for a few days in case she should see me and get upset. I’m sorry if she’s still fond of me, but, dash it all–––”
“You haven’t answered my question,” said Micky again.
He was controlling himself with a mighty effort, but the veins stood out like cords on his forehead and his hands were clenched.
The two men looked at one another, and it was Ashton’s eyes that fell.
“If you’re going to bullyrag me....” he began blusteringly, “I may as well tell you that I’m not going back to Paris till I please, and–––”
“Very well,” said Micky. He turned on his heel.
Raymond watched him cross the room anxiously. When he reached the door he called to him––
“Micky! What the devil are you going to do?”
And Micky answered without turning––
179
“I’m going to tell Mrs. Clare the way you’ve treated Miss Shepstone, and if she’s half the decent sort I think she is she’ll throw you overboard as you’ve thrown scores of others....”
Ashton followed and clutched his arm. “Come back; don’t be such a firebrand! I’ll go––I’ll clear out by the first train to-morrow.... I’m sorry if Esther was upset, but....”
Micky cut him short. “The first train leaves Victoria at 9.40; I’ll be there to see you off.”
Ashton scowled. “It’s a nice way to treat a friend,” he grumbled. “If there’s really anything up with Lallie ...”
Micky stood like a statue.
“It’s decent of you to take her out,” Ashton went on uneasily. “I’m much obliged to you, I’m sure. She’s never had much of a time. If I’d had any money....”
Micky broke out then. “Oh, hold your infernal tongue,” he said furiously.
He walked out of the room, shutting the door hard behind him. He passed the astonished maid in the hall and let himself out into the night. The blood was pounding in his veins, he felt in actual need of physical violence; he did not know how he had managed to keep his hands off Raymond. He walked on at a furious pace; presently he laughed with a sort of self-pity.
What was the good of what he had done after all? At best he had only succeeded in staving off the inevitable for a little while; Esther would have to know sooner or later.
Such wasted love it was! All for a man who was not worth one thought, or even a tear!
When he got back to his rooms he told Driver to call him early, as he was going to see somebody off by train. He was at Victoria long before Ashton; the greeting between the two men was constrained.
“I was going back to-day, anyway,” Ashton said180jauntily. “I’m going to be married the day after to-morrow–––” He looked at Micky with triumphant eyes. “To Mrs. Clare,” he added.
When Micky got back to his rooms, Driver met him; Driver with a spark of unwonted animation in his dull eyes, and who closed the sitting-room door mysteriously behind him as he came forward.
“If you please, sir––there is a lady to see you.”
“A lady!” said Micky blankly; then he laughed. “Rubbish! You’re dreaming, man.”
“No sir,” said Driver stolidly.
Micky stared at him for a moment, then he passed him, and threw open the door of the sitting-room.
It was Esther who rose from a chair by the fire as he entered.
For an instant Micky was unable to believe his own eyes, then he shut the door and took a step forward.
“You!” he said. “I never thought....”
She broke in agitatedly.
“Oh, I know; I suppose I shouldn’t have come; I don’t know what June would say if she knew; but––but there wasn’t anybody else I could come to, and you said ... you said....” She flushed up nervously. “Oh, you did say you would be a friend to me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Micky.
He might have reminded her that she had declined his friendship; he might have reminded her of all the not very kind things which she had said to him, but it was such happiness to see her here in his room that he was in no mood to be critical.
“Do sit down ... there’s no hurry, is there?” He wanted to put her at her ease; he did not like to see the nervous agitation in her face; but she shook her head.
181
“I’m not going to stay, only ... only I....” Her voice changed suddenly. “Oh, Mr. Mellowes, will you tell me how I can get to Paris?”
“Paris!” Micky echoed the word helplessly. “Paris!” he said again. For the moment he stared at her with blank eyes.
She rushed on impetuously.
“I have a friend there––some one I ... some one I ... oh, it’s the man I’m engaged to, and I want to see him––I must see him! I’ve got the money to get there. I hope you don’t think I was going to ask you to lend me that....” she added in distress.
“Miss Shepstone ... I––I....” Micky was horribly upset. “I never thought anything of the sort. And––and even if you were going to ask me, you know quite well that anything I have, anything....”
She stopped him hurriedly.
“Oh, I know, it’s very kind of you.” Her blue eyes sought his face with a sort of abasement. “I don’t think I’ve ever really realised how kind you’ve been to me,” she said. “But ... but I’ve been so worried and unhappy ... I––I do hope you’ll forgive me if I was rude or unkind.”
Micky did not answer; so it had come at last, the explanations which he had always dreaded; he racked his brains in vain to think of a way out of it––to make out the best story he could.
She seemed to realise his perturbation, she came a step nearer to him.
“Mr. Mellowes,” she said earnestly, “will you tell me something?”
“Yes,” said Micky inaudibly, but he did not look at her.
She looked up at him, trying to see his face before she asked her question.
“Do you––do you know who the man is that I am going to marry?”
In the silence that followed her timid question, Micky182felt that he lived through years. Should he tell her the truth, or should he not? Ashton was out of London by this time; in another forty-eight hours he would be married to another woman; he raised his head with a sort of desperation. “No,” he said.
He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that at least it was substantially the truth; she was not going to marry Ashton––she never could marry him now.
He heard the sigh of relief she gave.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Somehow, lately, I have thought that you did know. Mr. Mellowes ... last night ... I thought I saw him in the theatre last night. I know now that I was mistaken.” She paused a moment and looked past him to the window and the cold grey street outside. “I couldn’t have seen him,” she said again, as if to convince herself rather than him. “Because he is in Paris––I found out this morning that he is still in Paris.”
“Yes,” said Micky. His voice sounded choked. “And so––so you want to go out there to him, is that it?”
Her face brightened.
“Yes. I should have told June only––only she isn’t very sympathetic. You see”––she smiled faintly––“she hates my ‘phantom lover,’ as she calls him, and so––so I know she would only do her best to keep me from going to him; but you–––”
“I am afraid,” said Micky quietly, “that I shall try and do the same thing.”
He turned and looked at her squarely.
“You’ve never been to Paris,” he said, “and probably you can’t speak a word of French. You’ve probably never travelled any distance alone. Miss Shepstone, it’s impossible for you to go. I am only advising you for your own good. Why not write to––to––your fiancé and ask him to make arrangements for you?”
He broke off helplessly. The poor little letter in which she had already done so lay in his pocket at that moment.
183
It turned him sick to think of the tissue of lies and deceit his own actions were forcing upon him.
“I––I have asked him,” she said almost in a whisper, “but he said he couldn’t have me––then! But that’s quite a long time ago,” she added hopefully. “And I thought if he saw me––if I got there and surprised him–––”
Micky turned away. He could imagine so well what would happen if indeed she found Ashton. He walked over to the window and stood looking into the street with unseeing eyes.
“Have a little patience,” he said presently. “Take my advice and stay here. If he––if he can, he will send for you, I am sure.” She looked up quickly, a spark of anger in her eyes.
“You sound as if you think that will never be,” she said sharply.
Micky met her gaze unflinchingly.
“I don’t think anything of the sort. I know––I know if I were in his place, whoever he is––I should be counting the moments till I could ... could have you with me.” He smothered the momentary seriousness of his words with a little laugh. “And now, after that pretty compliment, aren’t you going to reward me by taking my most excellent advice?”
The ghost of a smile crossed her face.
“I wanted you to say something so different,” she told him wistfully.
“I know––but I’m not going to. Any one would advise you as I have. It isn’t ... it isn’t that I’m prejudiced, or anything like that. I would give a great deal to see you happy. I hope you believe me.”
She sat twisting her hands together nervously. After a moment she looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
She rose and began to pull on her gloves.
“I hope you don’t think it’s very dreadful of me to184have come,” she said deprecatingly. “But ... but this morning, somehow, I felt I must have someone to talk to––some one to advise me....”
“I am honoured that you came,” said Micky gravely. Her eyes fell before his.
“And––and you won’t tell June?” she appealed.
He smiled rather sadly.
“I am not likely ever to tell any one,” he said.
“No, I know. Mr. Mellowes”––she held out her hand to him suddenly, her fair face flushing––“I should like to take back something I said to you one day. Perhaps you don’t remember, but I do, and lately––especially since last night, when you were so kind––I’ve felt that I wasn’t just to you; and so ... if you will forgive me, I should like to be friends with you after all.”
She was crimson by the time she had finished, but Micky took her hand without answering, held it for a moment, then let it go.
“I suppose I mustn’t offer you anything?” he said with forced lightness. “No coffee––or tea? It’s cold out this morning. If you would care for anything, my man would bring it at once.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“I don’t want anything, thank you.” She looked round at Micky’s luxuriously furnished room. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked him.
He smiled. “Do you like it? I am glad.”
“I think it’s lovely.” She looked up at him. “I seem to have been climbing a ladder lately,” she said. “Since I left that awful place in the Brixton Road––where I am now is heaps better than that was, but this–––”
Micky was silent. It trembled on his lips to say that everything he had in the world was hers if only she would take it, but he knew the utter futility of it. Money and possessions counted very little with her. She would not have minded the house in the Brixton Road at all with the man she loved.
He went downstairs with her.
185
“So we’re really friends now?” he said when he bade her good-bye. “And you’ll promise to let me advise you again when you’re not quite sure what you ought to do?” There was a note of anxiety in his voice.
She flushed nervously.
“It’s kind of you to be interested.” It seemed strange to her that after all that had happened they should have so easily got back to their old footing of friendliness. But Micky was not at all happy. When she had gone he stood for a long time at the window staring moodily out.
When Driver brought lunch, he found Micky poring over a Bradshaw; he spoke to the man with elaborate carelessness.
“You’ll have to take another trip to Paris––to-morrow will do.”
“Yes sir.” Driver smoothed a crease in the cloth. “To post another letter, sir?” he asked expressionlessly.
Micky looked up sharply, but Driver met his eyes innocently.
Micky coloured.
“No; it isn’t a letter this time,” he said. “It’s to buy a fur coat.”
186CHAPTER XXI
“The phantom lover,” said June Mason lugubriously, “is certainly turning up trumps.”
It was a week later, and she was giving Micky tea.
Esther was out. She knew now that it was to see Esther he came. She was quite reconciled to the fact, and had got over her first pang of jealousy, but Esther’s indifference to him enraged her.
“Can’t the girl see what she’s throwing away?” she asked herself furiously. “What on earth is she made of that she can’t see what’s waiting for her to take? If Micky had adored me as he adores her ... well––my name wouldn’t have been June Mason to-day.”
But she kept such thoughts to herself and treated Micky very much the same as usual, though unconsciously there was a slight restraint in her manner, especially when Esther was present.
“I’m beginning to think that I’ve misjudged our Raymond,” she went on laughingly. “Perhaps some one has converted him. Anyway, he’s treating Esther handsomely. First the money, and last week the fur coat....” Micky looked up with sudden interest.
“Oh, it’s come, then, has it!” he said eagerly.
“Come! It’s been here two days. How did you know?” she asked with sudden suspicion.
“I heard you talking about it. Wasn’t it you? No? Then it must have been Miss Shepstone.”
“I dare say,” said June easily. “I never saw any one so delighted with a thing as she was with that coat. And it is a beauty, Micky. I only hope it’s paid for,” she added practically.
“Why shouldn’t it be paid for?” Micky said.
187
She made a little grimace.
“Because Raymond Ashton never paid for things if he could help it; and you know he didn’t,” she told him. “However, as he seems to be a reformed character, we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.” Suddenly she began to laugh. “And that isn’t all,” she said again. “This morning a collar arrived for that blessed cat–––” She indicated Charlie sleeping peacefully on the rug. “A silver collar, too my boy, with Esther’s name on it....”
Micky stooped to examine the collar; his face was red when, after a moment, he looked up again.
“Esther declares she never told him we’d got a cat,” June told him doubtfully. “But, of course, she must have done so or else the man’s got second sight.”
Micky was drinking his tea; he choked suddenly.
A feeling of panic closed upon him. Never told him she’d got a cat! of course she hadn’t! What a fool he had been to make such a blunder––what an utter blockhead.
“I expect she did tell him,” he managed to say.
“Yes, that’s what I think.” June lit a cigarette and passed the lighted match over to Micky.
“Anyway, Esther goes about the place singing all day,” she added drily. “There’s no doubt at all that she’s up in the seventh heaven of happiness. Reams of letters the man writes her. Perhaps, as the novels tell us, love is a wonderful thing–––” She looked at Micky with a comical expression in her queer eyes. “I should say it must be if it’s reformed that man,” she added cynically.
Micky said nothing. He had been very uncomfortable about things during the last few days. As far as he could find out, Ashton had not yet been married. Supposing it had all been bluff when he said he was going to be married––supposing he turned up again in London?
Micky stayed as long as he could in case Esther came in; it was only when he began to feel sure that June knew why he was dragging his visit to such a length that he said he ought to be going.
188
“There’s no hurry,” she said kindly. “Why not wait till Esther comes in?”
Micky shook his head; he said he couldn’t spare the time, but in his heart he knew quite well that he intended to wait.
“I suppose she––er––she never talks any more about taking a job now, eh?” he asked after a moment.
“No, I don’t think so; that man’s word is law to her, you know. I believe if he said ‘Come out here and marry me at once,’ she’d fly off by the next train. As a matter of fact, I’m expecting something of the sort almost daily.”
“I don’t think she’ll do that,” Micky said. He stood back to the fire, with his hands in his pockets, staring up at the ceiling.
“No!” June watched him quizzically. “Do you know, Micky,” she said at last, “that I consider you’ve altered a lot lately?”
He swung round at once, and scrutinised himself in the glass over the mantelshelf.
“For the worse, or the better?” he asked anxiously. “I know I never was exactly an Adonis.”
She laughed merrily.
“I don’t mean your face, stupid, but yourself. You’re quieter, you don’t go about so much; in fact”––she challenged him deliberately––“I believe you’re in love.”
“So I am,” said Micky stolidly.
She pretended not to take him seriously.
“It’s no joking matter––I mean what I say.”
“So do I,” said Micky. He laughed. He came over to where she was sitting, and stood behind her chair so that she could not see his face. “I’ve tried to make up my mind to tell you lots of times,” he said. “But I thought perhaps you’d have guessed before now....” He stopped and moved away restlessly.
June sat very still; presently––
“It’s Esther,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Poor old Micky!...”
189
“You needn’t be sorry for me; I walked into it with my eyes wide open. I knew she was engaged––I knew it all the time.”
“And Esther ... does she know? Have you told her?”
“Yes.... She took it as an insult. Perhaps it was; I don’t know. You see, I knew she was engaged to that other fellow.”
“An outsider! who isn’t worth a thought,” June cried indignantly. “Micky, however could she have refused you?”
He laughed. He looked down at her with a comical expression in his eyes.
“She’s not the first woman who’s done that,” he reminded her.
She sat up with sudden haste.
“That wasn’t anything, but this....”
“This,” said Micky, “isn’t anything either, except on my side. You always told me that some day I shouldn’t be able to have what I wanted. You were right.”
“I should like to slap her!” said June viciously.
He laughed outright.
“If you did I should slap you, my dear.” He went back to his chair by the fire. “It’s only between ourselves, June,” he said.
“Of course ... and, Micky––do you think she will marry Ashton?”
Micky did not answer for a moment.
“No,” he said at last. “I don’t think so.”
June stared at him.
“Then––then do you mean–––” But he would not tell her anything.
“You’ve heard quite enough for one day,” he said teasingly. “Don’t worry your head about me. I don’t know why I told you––somehow I thought you’d guessed.”
June threw her cigarette into the fire.
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“I did. I’ll be honest––I did guess,” she broke off. “Here is Esther,” she added.
She got up and opened the door.
“The lady with the fur coat,” she announced drily. “Pray come in, madame!”
“June,” said Esther protestingly.
She seemed to guess who was there. She looked past her friend at once to Micky.
She coloured faintly as he rose to greet her.
He had not seen her in the fur coat before. The dark fur suited her fairness admirably; the heavy folds hung gracefully about her slim figure; her face rose like a flower from the big, upstanding collar.
“And where have you been all the afternoon?” June demanded. “We waited tea for you till nearly five.”
Esther made a little grimace. “I’ve had my tea out––with Mr. Harley.”
“Harley?” said Micky sharply.
June laughed.
“He’s one of the tribe who live here,” she explained. “He’s a great admirer of Esther’s. And he’s quite a nice boy too, isn’t he?” she appealed to her friend.
“Very nice,” Esther agreed. “I met him quite by chance, and so we went and had some tea.”
Micky was frowning; it was odd that he felt more jealous of this man whom he had never seen than he had ever done of Ashton. He hated to feel that Esther had gone out with him wearing her new coat.
He stood by silently while the two girls chattered together; he felt very much out of it and unwanted.
“I’m glad everybody likes my coat,” Esther said. She had taken it off and was holding it at arm’s length, admiring its beauty.
“It was a lovely present, wasn’t it?” She appealed to Micky.
“Yes,” he said.
She laid her cheek to the big, soft collar.
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“It’s something I have wanted all my life,” she told him.
Micky put out his hand and took it from her. He hated to see her standing there looking so happy because she believed it had come from Ashton; he threw it down on the couch.
“I shall have to be going,” he said abruptly. He shook hands with June, but he walked out of the room without speaking to Esther.
“I don’t want any dinner,” he told Driver when he got in. “I’m going to bed.”
Driver opened his mouth to say something and closed it again; he brought the evening papers and his master’s slippers and turned to leave the room. At the door he stopped and looked back.
“Have you seen the evening paper, sir?” he asked deprecatingly.
“No,” said Micky. Something in the man’s voice arrested his attention; he turned in his chair. “Why?” he asked curtly.
Driver came back a step.
“There’s a notice of Mr. Ashton’s marriage in it, that’s all, sir,” he said woodenly. “I thought that you’d be interested.”
192CHAPTER XXII
So it had come at last. Micky sat staring down at the small paragraph which briefly announced the marriage of Tubby Clare’s wealthy widow to Mr. Raymond Ashton.
The ceremony, so the paper declared, which had taken place quietly in Paris would be a complete surprise to everybody. Mrs. Clare, as all the world knew, inherited something like £90,000 under the will of her late husband.
Micky whistled softly. Raymond had done well for himself. He would be able to live in luxury for the rest of his life; to discharge all his debts, if his wife chose to allow him to do so; all but one debt––the greatest of them all, and one which he could never hope to liquidate––a woman’s broken heart.
Esther––what would she say if she knew? And supposing she knew now–––! It was quite likely that a copy of this same paper had fallen into her hands. The thought turned Micky cold; he looked up hurriedly at the clock––not yet eight! On what pretext could he go back to Elphinstone Road?
He threw the paper down and rose to his feet. His gloves! He would make them the excuse––he could go back for his gloves. He taxied down the whole way; he sent his name up to June and waited in the hall. After a moment she came flying down the stairs.
“Micky! Is anything the matter? What in the world....”
He explained in stammering haste.
“Have you seen the evening paper? No, well, take care not to let Miss Shepstone see it. I had to come back and tell you. Ashton––the damned outsider....” He ground his teeth.
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“Not dead!” said June with a gasp.
“No––he was married yesterday in Paris.”
June sat down on the bottom stair; she felt as if all the strength had gone out of her.
“It can’t be true,” she said at last. “Why, she had a letter from him only yesterday. Are you sure? It must be another Ashton.”
“It isn’t––I knew it was coming. He’s married Tubby Clare’s widow––for her money, of course. If Esther knows....”
“It will break her heart,” said June.
There were footsteps on the landing above; Micky glanced up hurriedly.
“Can’t we go somewhere and talk? Everybody will hear if we stay here. Where is Miss Shepstone?”
“She’s in my room; she’s writing to him at this minute–––” She broke off, drawing in her breath hard. “Oh, Micky, are you quite, quite sure? I can’t believe it.” She stared at him for a moment, then she laughed incredulously. “Why, it’s only three days ago he sent her that fur coat––and the collar for Charlie. Oh, I’m sure it’s a mistake!”
“It’s not a mistake,” said Micky fiercely; he looked away from her. “Confound it, isn’t there a room where we can go and talk?” he broke out again.
She got up from the stairs and led the way across the hall.
“There’s the drawing-room. Nobody uses it now because it’s so cold.” She opened the door and peeped in. “There’s nobody there.”
Micky followed her, shutting the door behind him. The room was chilly and uninviting, with a lofty ceiling and a hideous wallpaper. There was a gas stove at the far end of the room, turned very low, and hissing softly as if in protest.
June knelt down and turned the tap on to its fullest extent.
“The thing is,” Micky said hurriedly, “what are we194going to do? If she stays in London, she’s bound to hear about it. All the papers will be full of it to-morrow. They’ll probably publish his confounded portrait. Can’t you get her out of London? We’ve got to do something.”
June did not look at him. The odd little twinge of jealousy tore her heart again. Even though she did not love Micky, she quite realised what she was losing. After all it must be a very beautiful thing to be cared for as Micky cared for Esther.
She raised her eyes with a little ghost of a smile.
“I’ll do anything I can, Micky. If you’ve got anything to suggest–––”
“I thought out crowds of plans coming along in the cab, but they’re all rotten,” Micky admitted dolefully. “I thought you’d be able to help me. Can’t you be called off to a relative in the country or something, and ask Miss Shepstone to go with you?”
June started up.
“Of course I can. I’ve got an aunt down at Enmore. She’s always asking me to go and see her. I’ll send her a wire. It’s too late to-night, but in the morning....”
Micky felt in his pocket for a pencil.
“Give me the address and I’ll send it first thing.” He paused. “Supposing Miss Shepstone won’t go, though?”
“Oh, she’ll go,” said June quickly. “I’ll tell her it means business for me. I’ll do the pathetic. I wonder what time there’s a train.”
“I’ll look up all the trains, and arrange everything. Does Miss Shepstone know I’m here now?”
“No–––”
“Very well, tell her one of your business agents called, and that you’ve got to go off early to-morrow. You can write me a note and post it to-night, asking me to see you off. It’s quite a usual thing for you to do, you know–––”