clock, but he went out into the lounge when he had
finished and sat down at a table in one of the most secluded corners.

There were pen and ink and a supply of hotel note paper, which Micky
looked at with great satisfaction, before he took up a pen, carefully
examined the nib, squared his elbows and began to write.

"My darling----"

Micky wrote the words hurriedly and covered them over with a sheet of
blotting paper as if they made him feel guilty.

"I thought I should have been leaving Paris before now, but have
been delayed. I shall be staying here till the end of the week and
am writing this so that you can let me have a letter before I
leave. I hope you have received both my other letters safely, and
are quite well and as happy as possible, seeing that we cannot be
together----"

He sat back for a moment and looked at this frowningly, then he wrote
on hurriedly.

"I want you to miss me, you see--I want you to feel as I do, that
there is only one thing to look forward to and that is when we
shall be together again. Dearest, it seems now that I have never
really told you how well I love you. Some day, if all that I wish
for comes true, I will tell you the many things you would not let
me say when we were last together...."

Micky's pen flew easily enough. For the moment he had forgotten why
and for whom he was writing, and thought only of Esther as she had
looked when he last saw her with the tears wet on her cheeks.

"Write to me as soon as you get this, so that I may have a letter
to take with me when I leave. I shall watch for every post and
count the minutes till it comes. I have arranged with my bankers
to send the money to you every week. Dearest, if this is not
enough, please let me know, and I will send some more...."

Micky scratched out the last five words, finally rewriting the whole
page to add

"... Let me know and we must see what can be done. I cannot bear
to think that you are wanting anything which it is in my power to
give you. Tell me all about yourself; if you are well and
happy--and how often you think of me. I shall write again soon,
perhaps to-morrow ... and till then, and for ever, I am always
yours, Micky ...."

He added his own signature without noticing it, then realised what he
had done and rewrote the last page in a panic.

Supposing he had sent it!--it made him hot all over to think what
would have happened. He would have t