is cushion and went
downstairs to Esther's room with him in her arms.

Her knock was answered immediately and Esther stood there in the
doorway.

June spoke without looking at her.

"I've brought Charlie down--I thought if he stayed up in my room any
longer you'd be wanting to pay me for his board and lodging."

She thrust the cat into Esther's arms and turned away.

She was feeling very sore; hers was such a generous nature that she
could not understand why Esther could not see how glad she would have
been to help her; she went back to her own room and slammed the door.

A moment later she was sorry for what she had done; twice she went
half way down the stairs to apologise, then came back again.

"Do her good," she told herself snappishly. "I've no patience with
such silly pride, and as for you, my boy," she stopped and shook her
fist at Micky's photograph, "if you don't buck up and find her
something...."

The two days dragged away. June purposely avoided Esther; she never
went into the dining-room to meals, and Esther never came upstairs to
June's room; there was a kind of armed neutrality between them.

Charlie, too, seemed to have been told to keep away, and June missed
his lusty purr in the silent room.

She shed a few tears into the mauve cushions; she thought Esther was
wilfully misunderstanding her; she wrote to Micky on the second day
with a great deal of emphasis.

"Are you dead or asleep? Here am I, just living to hear from you, and
you leave me without a word! Esther and I haven't spoken for two days,
not that you care, of course. You don't believe in my friendships, I
know, but it's a very serious thing for me. I'm more fond of that girl
than I've ever been of anybody, and now she'll walk out of this house
and my life, and it will be your fault...."

She knew this was unfair to Micky, but she knew that Micky would
understand--Micky always understood.

But Micky frowned over the letter. Did she imagine he enjoyed sitting
down here doing nothing? What pleasure did she suppose he was getting
out of the whole thing?

He threw the letter into the fire. Something ought to happen
to-morrow, anyway. The last two days had seemed like months.

To kill time he went round to the Delands. He felt a little nervous as
he reached the house. It seemed an unconscionable time since he was
last here. When the butler opened the door he felt an insane desire to
say, "Good evening, Jessop! You're still here,