uld have been easier
to meet than this trembling overture of friendship. He knew that the
little abashed expression in Marie's dark eyes could only mean one
thing, that he had cut her to the soul and that she still cared for
him.

He left the Savoy without having any dinner; he went back to his
rooms, where the imperturbable Driver was brushing and refolding his
master's clothes. It had almost broken Driver's heart to see the way
in which Micky had packed his things; he raised eyes of wooden
reproach as Micky entered the room.

There was a pile of letters on the table. Micky flicked them through
carelessly; nothing of interest--a few bills and a good many
invitations; nothing from Esther--not even a note from June.

He sat down by the fire and proceeded to cut the many envelopes open.
He kept thinking of Marie and wondering if it would be kinder not to
meet her to-morrow, after all; if he could possibly write her a note
that would tactfully explain the situation.

He just glanced at each of the notes as he opened them, and let them
drop to the carpet at his feet. They could be answered later; there
was nothing of importance, nothing he ... his attention was
arrested:--

"DEAR MR. MELLOWES,--I wonder if it will be asking too much of you
to come round and see me one afternoon for half an hour?--

Yours sincerely, LAURA ASHTON."

Micky glanced quickly at the address at the top of the paper--it was
from Raymond's mother.

What in the world could she want with him, he wondered blankly. He
looked across at Driver.

"This note--the one that came by hand--when did it come?" he asked.

Driver replied that it had been there for two days. He waited a
moment, then went on brushing Micky's coat.

Micky felt rather disturbed.

Raymond's mother! What in the wide world could she want with him?
Supposing it were anything to do with Esther ...

He wrote a note in reply at once and said he would call the following
afternoon; he could just look in early for half an hour and go on
afterwards to meet Marie; it was strange how he dreaded both these
appointments.

He felt ridiculously nervous when he reached Mrs. Ashton's house. For
the first time it occurred to him that possibly Esther would be here
too.

He was kept waiting some minutes in the drawing room--minutes during
which he wandered restlessly about staring at the pictures and the
photographs.

There were many portraits o