The Phantom Lover Part 30

"That's enough for to-day, and Esther's looking shocked to death."

"I'm not--I never thought about it," Esther protested indignantly.

June laughed.

"Well, you looked angry anyway," she declared. "Didn't she, Micky?"

"I'm afraid I didn't notice," he answered coolly, but he had, and for a moment his pulses had leapt at sight of the anger in Esther's eyes; she could not surely hate him as much as she pretended if it annoyed her that June should kiss him.

But she was indifferent enough now at all events; she was leaning back listlessly, her eyes fixed on the flames, her face sad and thoughtful.

She was thinking about Ashton, Micky told himself savagely, wis.h.i.+ng he were here, no doubt--Ashton, who even at that moment was probably running round Paris with Tubby Clare's little widow.

June was packing the tea things on to the tray and humming a s.n.a.t.c.h of song. Esther rose.

"Let me do that--you cleared away yesterday."

She took the tray.

June asked Micky for a cigarette.

"I've got heaps somewhere," she said vaguely. "But I never know where they are." She looked over to Esther. "Don't bother to put the cups away now," she said. "Come back and be cosy."

She was rather surprised that Esther obeyed; she had quite expected her to go off and not return.

Fond as she was of Esther, she could not quite make her out; she was full of surprises. It was getting dusk, and the room was full of shadows.

"Shall I light up?" Micky asked. "Or do we like the firelight?"

"We like the firelight," June said promptly; she nestled down amongst her mauve cus.h.i.+ons.

Micky was sitting straddle-ways across a chair between the two girls, and Esther had drawn back a little so that her face was in shadow.

Micky glanced at her once, but could only see the glint of firelight on her hair and her hands clasped listlessly in the lap of her frock.

He glanced at them; she still wore Ashton's ring, with its three inferior stones; he wondered how long the farce was going to be kept up and what would happen to bring it to an end.

"If some one doesn't talk," June said drowsily, "I shall go to sleep."

There was a quiet peacefulness in the cosy little room. Micky crossed his arms on the chair back and leaned his chin on them, staring into the fire, and Esther, from her place in the shadows, looked at him un.o.bserved.

Not in the least good-looking, she told herself again, and yet in common fairness she had to admit to herself that there was something about Micky Mellowes that was undeniably attractive.

She liked the obstinacy of his chin--she liked the way his hair grew, and the shape of his hands--strong, manly hands they were, in spite of the fact that they had probably never done a day's useful work in their lives. Of course he was too well dressed. To begin with, there was no need to wear grey spats over his shoes, or to have his trousers so immaculately creased. She forgot that she had liked Ashton to indulge in both these weaknesses.

Micky was whistling a s.n.a.t.c.h of a love-song under his breath. Esther did not know what it was; she had never heard the melody before, but something in the softly sentimental notes brought the tears to her eyes; before she was aware of it they were tumbling down fast.

June sprang suddenly to her feet.

"Why are we all mooning like this? Micky, give me a match." She almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from him and lit the gas; the yellow flare flooded the room. Micky, glancing at Esther, saw the tears on her cheeks and the way she averted her head.

He scowled and rose to his feet, standing so that his tall figure s.h.i.+elded her.

"Well, I must be getting along," he said. He pulled out his watch and looked at it, but he never noticed what the time was.

He was thinking of Esther and the tears he had surprised.

"And when are you going to introduce me to this man who is to make my fortune?" June demanded crisply. She was standing on a footstool, trying to see herself in a gla.s.s above the mantelshelf.

"Esther, you might have told me what a sight I look! My hair is all over the place."

"I thought it looked nice," Esther said hurriedly. She knew Micky had seen her tears, and was silently hating him for it.

Micky answered hesitatingly, "I'll let you know--I'll fix it up and let you know. There's no hurry, is there? I don't want him to think we are too keen."

"But I am keen," June insisted. "Wouldn't you be keen if some one had told you you would be a gold mine, properly handled?" she laughed.

"Oh, I forgot! money is no object to you. Well, bide your own time, my dear, but don't let it be too long.... Must you really go?"

"I'm afraid so; and, June----"

"Um!" said June, intent on another cigarette.

Micky fidgeted. He looked down at the carpet.

"If you don't hear anything of me for a few days you'll know I'm out of London...." He looked at Esther, but she was kneeling down by the fire stroking Charlie.

"Out of London!" June said in surprise. "Where are you going?"

Micky cleared his throat.

"I thought of running over to Paris for a day or two," he said.

"Paris!" They were both looking at him now. Micky was painfully aware of the eagerness in Esther's face.

"Yes; I haven't been since September. Anything I can do for you while I'm there?"

June raised her brows comically.

"Not for me, but perhaps Esther ... Esther has a great friend over there, haven't you, my child?"

Esther turned crimson from chin to brow.

"Mr. Mellowes is not at all likely to meet any friend of mine," she said stiffly.

Micky felt horribly sorry for her.

"Don't be too sure, Miss Shepstone," he said lightly. "It's a small world, you know, and it's the most unexpected things that happen."

But Esther seemed not to have heard.