June tucked Esther up in bed and replenished the fire. She turned out the gas, leaving the room fire-lit.

“June,” Esther said timidly. “What did your aunt think? What did she say––when––when–––”

“She said we must go back and finish our visit another time––she took a great fancy to you.”

“You’re saying that to please me.”

“I’m not! honest Injun!” June heard the tears in Esther’s voice; she bent and kissed her gently.

“Now, not another word! I refuse to answer another question! Pleasant dreams––or better still, no dreams at all.” She went away, and shut her door behind her.

Esther lay awake for a long time watching the firelight on the walls and ceiling, and thinking of what had happened.

It seemed impossible that she had even really seen and spoken to Raymond Ashton; impossible that instead of loving him desperately, she could only shudder at the memory of him.

The tears forced their way to her eyes, and scorched her cheeks. But for Micky, where might she not have been now?––and he had refused to even let her thank him. Her heart was filled with a new humility. At best her words would be so poor––like beggars in the palace of his generosity.

But she would see him again soon––she comforted herself with the assurance. In spite of his changed manner and apparent indifference, she was sure she would see him again. Micky––as June had said of him––never failed!

It was her last thought as she fell asleep, that she would surely see him the next day.

But Micky did not come!

Esther rested till lunch time, after which June insisted on a walk.

“The sun’s shining, and it’s wicked to stay indoors,” she declared; she marched Esther about for half an hour.

Esther had been so sure that Micky would come. She glanced up at the clock, and then at Micky’s photograph––but to-day he seemed to be looking past her into the room to where June was bustling about, and she gave a little sigh.

The evening dragged away.

“What are you thinking about?” June asked once abruptly. “You look so sad, don’t look sad, my dear! there’s lots of happy days to come yet––happier days than you’ve ever had.”

Esther was only half listening. It was too late for Micky to come now was the thought in her mind. Supposing he never came again?

She cried herself to sleep that night. When she woke it was late in the morning, and June had had her breakfast and gone out.

She came in while Esther was dressing. She looked very pleased and alert.

“Business, my child!” she said enthusiastically. “Such a duck of an American! and Micky’s introduction! Mr. George P. Rochester!––isn’t it a lovely name? He’s going to establish me firmly in little old New York, as he calls it, and make my fortune. I’m going out to lunch with him at one o’clock, and you’re coming too!––Oh, yes you are!” as Esther shook her head. “I’ve told him all about you already.” Esther laughed.

“You must have got on very fast,” she said. “And anyway I’m not going to play odd-man-out.”

June made a little grimace.

“I telephoned Micky and asked him to come and make a fourth,” she admitted.

Esther flushed. She looked up eagerly:

“And––and is he coming?”

June shook her head.

“No, he isn’t,” she said with overdone indifference. “He said he’d got an engagement already, but between you and me and the doorpost,” she added darkly, “I don’t believe it! I think he just didn’t want to come.”

“Oh,” said Esther faintly. “I expect he has a good many engagements,” she added after a moment.

June said “Humph!” She recalled the curt manner of Micky’s refusal, and wondered if there had been a more serious rupture between himself and Esther than she was ever likely to hear about.

“So we shall have to make up our minds to enjoy ourselves without his distinguished company,” she said airly. “I dare say we shall be able to manage quite nicely. Esther, aren’t you going to wear your fur coat?”

“My fur coat!” said Esther rather unsteadily. “It’s not mine.”

She was taking from the wardrobe the shabby jacket she had worn the first night she met Micky; it looked more shabby and unsmart than ever, but she was going to wear it whatever happened.

She was smarting with humiliation. She had offered Micky her little olive branch when they parted two days ago at Charing Cross, and this is how he had accepted it!

“If he’s trying to pay me out, I suppose it’s only what I deserve,” she thought miserably, and yet it did not seem like Micky to deliberately try or wish to hurt or humiliate any one.

She did her best to push the shadow aside. She tried to laugh and talk with June as they went off to meet Mr. George P. Rochester.

He was a big, bluff man, with a hand-clasp like the 270 grip of a bear, and a twang that could be cut with a knife.

They lunched at a restaurant which she had never even heard of, though June seemed quite at home. There were several people at other tables, whom June knew, and Esther felt very out of it all, and unhappy.

It was a good thing she had refused to marry Micky, she thought with a sort of anger. She knew none of his friends and nothing of the life to which he had always been accustomed. She did not realise that it was the knowledge of her shabby coat that was affecting her spirits more keenly than anything.

June’s clothes were not new, but they had an unmistakable “cut” about them, and Rochester was exceedingly well dressed.

He talked to June a great deal. Once or twice he tried to draw Esther into the conversation, but, seeing that she wished to be let alone, he soon gave up the attempt.

He was certainly a most friendly person––one would have thought that he and June had known one another for years. Before lunch was ended he had invited himself to tea for the following afternoon.

“That’s Yankee push if you like!” June said when he had gone. “Give me a Yankee every time to make things go!” She looked at Esther excitedly. “Do you know,” she said, “I’ve a great mind to try and persuade that man to come into partnership with me.”

Esther laughed.

“I should say he’d suggest it himself if you give him another day or two,” she said drily. She wandered listlessly round the room.

“I shall have to leave here at the end of the week,” she said suddenly. “It’s impossible to go on living here, and letting you pay my rent and my food bill. I owe you more than I can ever repay already.”

“If you talk like that I’ll––I’ll kill you!” said June in a rage. “You don’t understand what friendship means. 271 Micky had tried to teach you, and so have I, and all you do is to throw it back in our faces.... O Esther, don’t!...”

Esther had turned away and covered her face with her hands.

“I know you think I’m ungrateful and horrid,” she said brokenly. “But how would you like to be in my position? I haven’t a shilling of my own in the world––the things I’ve been wearing since I came here are paid for by ... by ... oh, you know! I hate to look at that fur coat and my new frock. You talk to me about being proud and obstinate; well, I can’t help it, you must go on thinking it, that’s all; I’d rather die than take anything more from any one. I kept myself before, and I will again....”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you––I’m a perfect beast,” June declared in remorse. “But it does seem such a shame.”

Esther raised a flushed face.

“We can’t all have money and be independent,” she said hardily. “But I think you might try and understand how I feel about it.”

“I only know that I’m dying to help you, and you won’t let me,” June said grumpily. “Lord! where is my cigarette case? I shall swear or do something worse if I can’t smoke.”

She went out of the room, and Esther heard her go clattering up the stairs. There were tears in her eyes now, but she brushed them angrily away; after all, what was there to cry for! It was only that she had got to go back to where she had left off that New Year’s Eve when she first met Micky; everything was just as it had been then, save that she was the poorer now by the loss of a dream.