The Phantom Lover Part 45

"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 friends.h.i.+p; 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.

"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 abas.e.m.e.nt. "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, Micky felt 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 fiance 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.

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 to have 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 flus.h.i.+ng--"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."