pposed Micky would not talk about Ashton because he was his
friend; men were so absurdly loyal to one another.

"If you loved Esther as much as I do," she said suddenly, "you
wouldn't stand by and say nothing while she goes and marries that
man."

Micky was prodding the tipsy cake with a fork.

"She hasn't married him yet," he said stoically. "And if she's
happy----"

"She isn't, my good man! at least only in theory!" June declared.
"It's not Raymond Ashton she really cares for, but some wonderful
person she thinks he is. She is looking at him through rose-coloured
glasses."

Micky smiled.

"That's what most women do, isn't it?" he asked. "My dear girl, don't
get so upset; I thought you wanted to bring me out to talk business."

"This is business, my business at least, even if you're not
interested. No wonder you didn't want her to go to Mrs. Ashton's!"

Micky coloured.

"Well--I thought it would be better not, certainly."

June regarded him severely.

"You're a deep soul," she said. "I never even guessed that you knew
anything."

"Why should you? And I don't know anything. Can't we talk about
something else?" he asked plaintively.

It was getting on his nerves, this constant conversation about
Esther.

"So you'll come along to-morrow, eh?" he asked presently. "It's a long
time since we went for a little jaunt together."

"I shall love it." But June answered absently; her thoughts were still
with Esther.

Silence fell. Micky had finished his tipsy cake and was leaning back
in his chair, a cigarette hanging dejectedly between his lips. He had
lit it, but it had gone out, and though matches stood beside him he
made no effort to light it again.

June watched him across the table. He didn't look a bit well, she
thought. What was the matter with him?

"You know, Micky," she said impulsively, "I had quite made up my mind
that you and Esther were to fall in love with one another. It would
have been ideal, wouldn't it?" she asked wickedly.

A little spasm crossed Micky's face, but it was gone so quickly June
could never be quite sure if she had not imagined it.

"Ideal," he said quietly. "Shall we go?"

"I'll let you know about to-morrow," June said, as they parted. "I
shall have to wear the same old purple frock I wore when you took me
out last time; you won't mind?"

"Not a bit, as long as you come; and ... let me know about Miss
Shepstone. If she won't come I'll give the ticket away."

"I'll