The Phantom Lover Part 28

June broke in impatiently.

"Oh, very well--I don't want to argue, but I think it's mean of you.

If you really liked me you'd stay...."

"I shall come to see you whenever I get any time off."

"Yes, once a week for two hours, I suppose--and when I shall probably be out."

"I shall write first and let you know when I'm coming."

June took no notice; she screwed the lid on to a perfume bottle and wiped her fingers on the white overall.

"You needn't put any more labels on," she said shortly. "I can do the rest myself."

She took the tray away from Esther and carried it into her bedroom; when she came back there was a suspicion of tears in her eyes. Esther looked distressed. She felt that she was behaving meanly, and yet she meant to go to Mrs. Ashton's.

"Micky Mellowes is coming directly," June said tartly. "If you don't want to see him you'd better go. I know you hate him...."

Esther turned scarlet. She took off the ap.r.o.n she had borrowed from June and turned to the door.

Before she reached it June followed.

"I'm a pig. I apologise humbly! Please stay. Why don't you box my ears when I speak to you like this?" She dragged Esther back to the fire.

"I'm wild because you've made up your mind to leave me. Our friendship doesn't mean anything to you.... There's Micky--he'll want to know why I've been crying. Amuse him for five minutes, there's an angel, and I'll come back."

She was gone in a flash.

A smiling Lydia showed Micky into the room. Lydia liked Micky; he was always courteous, and he had been generous with his tips on each occasion that he had visited the house.

Micky looked a little embarra.s.sed when he saw Esther. He glanced quickly round the room. "June ... I----"

"She's coming in a moment," Esther explained. "Won't you sit down?"

Micky sat on the arm of the big chair; he was cold; he leaned forward, rubbing his hands vigorously. Esther watched him critically.

She had told June that she did not consider him in the least good-looking, but now the thought crossed her mind that this had not been quite a fair thing.

He was tall and well made, and he had brown hair that grew well about his temples, and waved slightly where it parted.

His nose was nothing particular and slightly crooked, and his eyes were nondescript in colour, but kind ... so kind! Esther remembered it was the first thing she had noticed about him the night they met.

He looked up.

"Well," he said, "have you found another berth yet?"

"I'm going to Mrs. Ashton's," Esther said.

She was amazed at the sudden change in his face; a look of furious anger flashed into his eyes; he rose to his feet.

"You're not serious?" he said quietly.

Esther laughed; she felt painfully nervous without knowing why.

"Serious? Indeed I am!" she answered. "Mr. Mellowes, what are you doing?..."

Micky had caught her hands. Jealousy was driving him with whips of fire--jealousy of this phantom lover, whom he himself had created.

"You're not to go," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "I--I--I can't bear to think of you having to work for your living. There's no need--it's all nonsense. You'd hate being at the Ashtons.... Esther----"

She wrenched herself free; she was white to the lips.

"You must be mad!" she said. "How dare you speak like this? What is it to you what I do? How dare you try to interfere? What business is it of yours?"

Micky laughed shakily; he had recovered himself a little now.

"It's everything to me," he said rather hoa.r.s.ely. "You must know that it is. Esther, will you marry me?"

If only premeditated proposals were made, there would be few marriages in the world. Ten minutes ago, when Micky Mellowes walked into the room, he had no intention of asking Esther to marry him, but now it seemed as if he had come for that express purpose as he stood there, grimly obstinate.

There was a moment of silence; then Esther drew herself up.

"I think you must be mad," she said. "I've only seen you once or twice in my life. I have told you that I am already engaged."

"I know, but it makes no difference," said Micky. "I ask you to marry me--will you marry me?"

She drew back from him.

"You must be mad."

Micky laughed. "You've said that two or three times already, but I a.s.sure you that I'm quite sane. I loved you the first moment I ever saw you, but, of course, you won't believe it. However, that doesn't matter--you haven't answered my question. Will you marry me?"

"You know I am engaged--how dare you?..." She backed away from him till she was close to the door. Micky laughed savagely.

"You needn't be afraid--I'm not going to hurt you--I'm not going to move from this hearthrug, but I should like you to answer my question.

Once again, will you marry me?"

"No----"

He forgot his promise and took a step towards her.

"I can make you happier than any other man possibly could. I've never cared for a woman in my life till I met you...."

"I wouldn't marry you if you were the only man in the world--I--I don't even like you...." Her voice shook with anger now. "My answer is no--no--no! I shall never change my mind if I live to be a hundred ..." she added vehemently. The words seemed forced from her by something in his eyes.

"You will," said Micky calmly, though he felt anything but calm.

"Women always do; but if you don't feel like changing it just at this moment, will you please tell June I am here? I came to see her, and I'm tired of waiting...." He turned away and went back to his seat on the arm of the big chair as if nothing had happened, but his hand shook when he tried to light a cigarette.

When June came back he was absently turning the pages of a magazine; she looked at him for a moment, then began to laugh.