The Phantom Lover Part 55

With the little suit-case in her hand she went downstairs and out into the street.

There was n.o.body about, and she almost ran to the station. The porter who had witnessed her meeting yesterday with Micky stared at her wonderingly.

The London train was due now, he told her. She'd have to hurry.... She was gone before he finished his slow speech.

She found an empty carriage and got in, sitting as far away from the door as possible in case any one should come along the platform and recognize her. It was only when the train started away that she leaned back and closed her eyes.

"I am going to Paris; I can't live without him any longer. Please don't worry." Over and over she found herself repeating these words in her brain. She wondered where she had heard them and what they really meant.

"I am going to Paris; I can't live without him any longer."

They were true anyway. She was going to Paris because she felt she could no longer live without Raymond.

She opened her eyes with a little gasp; they were her own words. She remembered that she had written them in the note she had left on the pincus.h.i.+on for June.

Poor June! She would be angry. And Micky.... A little throb touched her heart. She had not been very kind to Micky. She hoped he would soon forget her. Her eyes closed again.

How long did it take to get to Paris? She had not the least idea. She had not got much money with her; she tried to remember how much, but somehow her brain refused to act; she took out her purse and tipped its contents into her lap. She started to count it, but after a moment she gave it up with a helpless feeling and put it all back again.

"Tubby Clare's little widow...." Who was Tubby Clare? she wondered.

She laughed foolishly. What a name!

But he had left his widow a great deal of money, and money was everything nowadays. n.o.body could be happy without money; Raymond had told her that months ago; a man with money has the whole world at his feet, so he had said.

She thought of Micky--he was one of the richest men in London, and yet he was not happy. She had never thought that he looked happy; she wondered if it was really because he loved her.

She wished she could stop thinking. She was so tired, she wanted to sleep; but the wheel of thought went on and on in her brain.

The miles seemed to crawl by. Soon the fields and open country were left behind; the houses were closer together; presently they crowded one another, almost jostling each other out of the way, it seemed.

What an ugly place London was. She sat up with a little s.h.i.+ver.

Strange how cold she felt, and yet her head was burning hot.

Would this journey never end? Surely they had been travelling for days and days already.

The train stopped with a jerk.

"Paddington ... all change--all change...."

Esther stumbled to her feet.

CHAPTER XXVI

Micky had just reached the unpretentious inn in the village where he had taken a room, when he was hailed from across the road by June; a very cheerful looking June, in a business-like coat and skirt of rough tweed, and carrying a walking-stick, which she proceeded to wave at him vigorously.

"Back so soon!" She came across to where he stood by the car, and looked at his despondent face. "Not another row?" she demanded tersely.

Micky frowned.

"No--merely a sort of frigid silence this time," he said savagely, then he laughed. "It's no use, June, I may as well throw up the sponge. I seem to put my foot in it whatever I do."

June drew a pattern in the mud at her feet.

"Well, what have you done?" she asked. "Esther was all right this morning, and quite pleased to be going with you. I certainly never expected to see either of you till this afternoon. Where did you go?"

Micky shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, some little one-eyed place. We stopped at an inn and had some coffee, and that seemed to finish it."

"What, the coffee?" asked June with a twinkle.

Micky turned away.

"If you're going to make a joke of everything----" he said with dignity.

She laid her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, old boy. But you do explain things so badly, you know. You had coffee at the inn, yes--and then----"

"I went outside to start up the engine, and when I came back she seemed to have utterly changed. She even looked different and she hardly spoke all the way home."

"It must be your imagination."

He shook his head.

"No, it isn't; and when we got home she went indoors without even saying good-bye--confound her!" he added in savage parenthesis.

"Oh, Micky!" said June reproachfully.

He coloured.

"I didn't mean that, but I'm so fed-up with everything----" He leaned his elbow on the side of the car and looked away from her down the road. "I think I'll get back to town this afternoon," he said after a moment. "I was a fool to come at all."

June looked at him silently.

"Well, what are you thinking?" he asked.

She roused herself and answered briskly.

"I think you want your lunch, that's what I think, and I'm going to take you back with me to have some. Aunt Mary is expecting you----"

Her queer eyes twinkled. "Micky, she's quite made up her mind that you've come down here after me."

Micky laughed ruefully.