"I--I have asked him," she said almost in a whisper, "but he said he
couldn't have me--then! But that's quite a long time ago," she added
hopefully. "And I thought if he saw me--if I got there and surprised
him----"

Micky turned away. He could imagine so well what would happen if
indeed she found Ashton. He walked over to the window and stood
looking into the street with unseeing eyes.

"Have a little patience," he said presently. "Take my advice and stay
here. If he--if he can, he will send for you, I am sure." She looked
up quickly, a spark of anger in her eyes.

"You sound as if you think that will never be," she said sharply.

Micky met her gaze unflinchingly.

"I don't think anything of the sort. I know--I know if I were in his
place, whoever he is--I should be counting the moments till I could
... could have you with me." He smothered the momentary seriousness of
his words with a little laugh. "And now, after that pretty compliment,
aren't you going to reward me by taking my most excellent advice?"

The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"I wanted you to say something so different," she told him wistfully.

"I know--but I'm not going to. Any one would advise you as I have. It
isn't ... it isn't that I'm prejudiced, or anything like that. I would
give a great deal to see you happy. I hope you believe me."

She sat twisting her hands together nervously. After a moment she
looked up at him.

"Thank you," she said.

She rose and began to pull on her gloves.

"I hope you don't think it's very dreadful of me to have come," she
said deprecatingly. "But ... but this morning, somehow, I felt I must
have someone to talk to--some one to advise me...."

"I am honoured that you came," said Micky gravely. Her eyes fell
before his.

"And--and you won't tell June?" she appealed.

He smiled rather sadly.

"I am not likely ever to tell any one," he said.

"No, I know. Mr. Mellowes"--she held out her hand to him suddenly,
her fair face flushing--"I should like to take back something I
said to you one day. Perhaps you don't remember, but I do, and
lately--especially since last night, when you were so kind--I've
felt that I wasn't just to you; and so ... if you will forgive me,
I should like to be friends with you after all."

She was crimson by the time she had finished, but Micky took her hand
without answering, held it for a moment, then let it go.

"I suppose I mustn't offer you anything?" he said with