The Phantom Lover Part 66

"I've brought the car, sir," he said.

"Good man; get me a taxi, then. You must take the car down to your rooms," Micky said to June. "No, don't argue; I insist----"

He put the two girls into the car; he did not look at Esther, though he squeezed June's hand when he said good-bye.

"Let me know if you get back all right; I shall see you soon."

He raised his hat, stood aside, and the car started forward.

June looked at Esther with a sort of shyness. It seemed as if years must have pa.s.sed since they were down at Enmore.

The car had rolled out of the station and into the heart of London before either of them spoke; then Esther said, stiltedly:

"It was kind of you to come."

June flushed.

"It wasn't kind at all," she said bluntly. "You're my friends, or, at least, you were, and, as for Micky--well, I love him."

There was a sort of defiance in her voice. She had seen the tired, strained look in Micky's face, and she was nearer being angry with Esther than she had ever been, but she turned and took her hand.

"Somehow I never thought I should see you again," she said, with real emotion. "I haven't slept a wink since you went away."

"You're much too good to me," Esther said. "Everyone is much too good to me."

"I think Micky is, certainly," June agreed exasperatedly. "The man's a perfect fool to run about like he does after a woman who doesn't care two hoots about him.... There! now I oughtn't to have said that.

Esther, if you're crying...."

Esther had covered her face with her hands.

"I'm not crying," she said in a stifled voice. "But I'm so ashamed. I don't know what you must think of me--it's so--so humiliating."

"It's nothing of the kind," June declared. "The only mistake you've made is to put your money on the wrong man, if you'll excuse the expression. Raymond Ashton was always an outsider.... There! I won't say another word. You've come home, and that's all that matters."

It was only when they were safely up in the room with the mauve cushions that she flung her hat down on the sofa and drew a long breath.

"Well, I never thought we should be here together again," she said tragically. "It seemed like the end of everything when I found your note on the pincushion. I don't know what I should have done if it hadn't been for Micky."

"I don't know what I should have done either," Esther said. She met June's eyes and flushed crimson. "I've been horrid about him, I know,"

she added bravely. "And now I'm sorry."

June said "Humph." She sat for a moment staring at the floor, then she got up and searched for the inevitable cigarettes.

"You ought to go to bed," she said in her most matter-of-fact tone.

"Where did you sleep last night?"

"Nowhere--at least--we were in the train all night. I did sleep a little, but...."

June took her by the shoulders.

"Off you go to bed, and don't argue. I've had a fire put in your room, and Charlie is there with a new bow on. I'll come and tuck you up when you're ready, and...."

But Esther refused to move.

"I couldn't sleep if I went to bed. I want to tell you about--about what's happened...." She paused breathlessly, but June was not going to help her.

"I don't want to hear anything," she said flatly. She looked at Esther and saw the tears in the younger girl's eyes. She put an arm round her, drawing her down to the sofa.

"Tell me all about it, then," she said. "I'm just--just longing to know."

"But there isn't much to tell, except----" Esther held out her left hand. "I'm not engaged any more," she said with a faint attempt to laugh. "He--Mr. Ashton--is married...."

"I know--Micky told me before we went to Enmore. I hope he's married a vixen who'll lead him an awful dance. It would serve her right to let her know the sort of man he is--to let her know the sort of letters he's been writing to you--to show him up properly."

Esther hid her face in the mauve cushions.

"Oh, but he has never written to me," she said chokingly. "I've never had a letter from him since he went away, and that was on New Year's Eve. It's all been a mistake--a sham ... he never cared for me--he never really wanted me...."

June threw away the cigarette and tried to raise Esther.

"What are you talking about? He did write to you--you told me yourself that he wrote beautiful letters--he sent you that money--Esther! what do you mean?"

Esther looked up; for a moment June caught a glimpse of misty, shamed eyes.

"They weren't from him: those letters--the money never came from him,"

she said in a stifled voice.

"What! My good child, have you gone out of your mind?"

June was a hundred miles from guessing the truth. "If he didn't write them, then who in the world did?" she demanded crisply. "And if he didn't send the money, who in the wide world...."

She caught her breath on a sudden illuminating thought.

"Esther ... not--not--Micky!"

"Yes." It was the smallest whisper, and it was followed by a tragic silence; then June got up and began walking aimlessly about the room; she felt as if she had been robbed of all breath.

Twice she turned and looked at Esther's huddled figure, then she went back, laid a hand on her arm and said in an odd, gentle voice that was strangely unlike her own brisk tones:

"And do you mean to say that you don't just think him the finest man in all the world?"

Esther sat up with sudden pa.s.sion.

"I didn't think of him at all--it was like having a knife turned in my heart when I knew," she said wildly. "Oh, you can't understand if you've never cared for anybody what it feels like to know that you've been made a fool of. When he told me I felt that I hated him--there didn't seem anything fine or good in what he had done; I only knew that I'd been played with, made fun of...." She stopped, sobbing desperately, but for once June attempted no consolation. She was looking at Micky's portrait on the shelf, and there was a wonderful tenderness in her queer eyes.

"Who told you?" she asked then. "Who told you that it was Micky?"

"He did--he only told me when he knew why I was going to Paris--he told me in the train. It's been from Mr. Mellowes all along--the money I've had every week--my clothes--this coat ... he's been paying for my food, and for me to live here...." She raised her eyes to June's face.

"Did you know?" she asked shakily. "He said you didn't, but somehow...."