, and I'm too lazy to
bother to change. It's not a bit the life I should choose if I had my
way. I hate dressing for dinner, and wading through six or seven
courses, and being bored stiff half the time by some dressed-up woman
beside me...."

He looked at her with a comical expression.

Esther leaned her chin in her hand and raised serious eyes to his
face.

"Well, how would you really like to live, then?" she asked.

Micky sat down on the edge of the table and stuck his long legs out
before him. He kept his eyes fixed on his boots as he answered--

"Well, I should like a place in the country, as I said, and a
garden--a ripping garden, with lots of roses and grass--walks like you
see in old-fashioned pictures, and a high box hedge--that's one of the
things I simply must have! Have you ever smelt a box hedge after a hot
sun has been on it? No? well, you ought to; it's fine!"

He paused reflectively.

"I should like to look after the roses myself, I think," he went on
presently. "I dare say I should make a mess of it, but I should like
to have a try, anyway. And I should like to keep lots of animals,
horses and dogs and chickens. Do you know"--he half turned to
her--"I've always had a fancy for great Danes--you can't keep 'em in
town, only in the country. Some people I once stayed with down in
Lincoln had a couple--ripping dogs they were--almost as big as ponies,
and they used to let the kids play with them and pull them about. Old
Lancing had a boy, you know--a ripping little kid of five--a real
sport he was, too--Uncle Micky he used to call me." Micky chuckled
reminiscently. "It must be jolly fine to have a youngster of your own
like that," he added.

This was a new Micky, indeed! Esther watched him with fascinated eyes.
She had not known that he was fond of children; she had taken it for
granted that men hardly ever were. She supposed drearily that she had
got that idea from Raymond. He had always said he would not stand
"kids." It was odd that, though Micky had used the same word, it had
sounded somehow quite different when he said it.

Micky raised his eyes suddenly. "What are you thinking about?" he
asked.

She shook her head; her lip quivered a little.

Micky half rose to go to her, when the two men who owned the second
car came back into the room again. Micky turned on his heel.

"I suppose we ought to be getting on," he said constrainedly. "I'll go
and start up; you stay here."

He went out, lea