go off on business. One of my agents has just
been here. He's made a mess of things, as usual, and I've got to go
down and put things right. Oh, it's quite country! I don't know if you
like the country. I adore it myself. A place called Enmore. I've got
an antediluvian aunt who lives there, and we'll go and foist ourselves
on her. She's always asking me to go and see her, so she'll be
delighted. Well, what do you say?"

"You haven't given me a chance to say anything," Esther protested
laughing. "You're like a whirlwind, sweeping every one off their feet.
Where is Enmore to start with? And how can I go? Your aunt doesn't
know me."

"She'll love you because I do," said June promptly. "Now don't spoil
everything. The greatest fun of it all is rushing off at a moment's
notice. I shall send Micky a note to-night and tell him to look up
trains for us and come and see us off. Micky's always to be relied on.
If I look trains up myself I always go by the wrong ones and never get
there." She was sitting down to her desk as she spoke; she looked
across at Esther, pen in hand. "Well?" she queried.

Esther looked down at Charlie sprawling in the firelight.

"What's going to become of Charlie?" she asked.

"Lydia will look after him," June said promptly. "She adores cats.
That's one excuse surmounted. Any more?"

Esther laughed.

"I should like to come, but----"

"Then that's settled. We'll stay a week if we're not bored to death.
It's a desolate spot--just a handful of houses and a haystack and a
few things like that, but if you like the country we ought to have a
good time. I wish I'd got a car...."

"Isn't it rather a funny place to go to for business?" Esther asked
innocently.

"Not in the least," June declared. "All the ingredients for my skin
food came from the country--herbs and attar of flowers and all the
rest of it. Besides"--she swallowed hard before uttering the biggest
fib of all--"my agent lives down there, you see."

"Oh!" said Esther. She was rather pleased at the idea of a change.

"I suppose we can have letters sent on?" she asked after a moment.

June's scratching pen stopped for a moment; then flew on again faster
than before.

"Oh, of course!" she said airily.

Her kind heart gave a little throb of pity as she realised that there
would never be any letters to send on--not any, at least, of which
Esther was thinking.

The phantom lover had gone for ever.

She looked round at the girl pitying