ce.

"This morning--was it only this morning?--it seems so long ago." She
stopped for a moment, then went on again slowly. "When we were at that
inn in the village--those men with the car--I heard them talking...."
She stopped again.

"Yes," said Micky.

She frowned as if his monosyllable had interrupted her train of
thought. She went on presently--

"They were talking about Paris--and Raymond." And now she raised her
eyes. "If you say that it was true what I heard them say, I will kill
you," she said with sudden passion. "It's a lie--just a lie to hurt
me, to hurt me more than I've been hurt already." She stopped,
panting. "It's a lie--say it's a lie," she drove the words at him.

Micky sat down beside her.

"If they said that Ashton had been married in Paris to Mrs. Clare it
was the truth," he said.

He marvelled at the steadiness of his voice. He felt sick with shame
at the part he was having to play. He went on incoherently--

"I knew it before you ever went to Enmore--it was in the London
papers. I was afraid you would see it. I persuaded June to get you
down into the country. I suppose I was a fool. I ought to have known
it was only putting things off."

He looked at her and quickly away again.

"Forget him, Esther, for God's sake. He never cared for you; he isn't
worth a thought."

She rose to her feet, pushing the hair back from her face as if she
were distraught.

"How dare you say such things to me?" she said in an odd, choked
voice. "You always hated him--you and June. Do you think I'm going to
believe you? Do you think I could believe you for a moment when I have
his letters--when he has shown me in so many ways how he cares?... I
don't care what you say--I don't care if the whole world were to tell
me it was true--I'll never believe it till he tells me himself...."
Her breath came gaspingly; she looked at Micky's white face with
passionate hatred in her eyes.

"How do I know it isn't all a made-up story?" she asked him hoarsely.

She hardly knew what she was saying; she leaned her arms on the
mantelshelf and hid her face in them.

Micky let her alone; he got up and began pacing up and down the room.

He deserved everything she had said; it was all his fault that she had
got this to bear. With the best intentions in the world he had proved
himself a blundering fool.

Esther raised her head; she had not shed a tear, but her face was
white and desolate.

She walked past him to the door