ly as she sat there, but
everything seemed so unreal, and most of all the fact that Micky had
once professed to love her.

In the train he left her to herself till they reached London. He was
sure she "did not want to be bothered," he said, and he was going to
smoke.

Esther felt a little pang of disappointment. It seemed a long time
till the train steamed fussily into Charing Cross; and the old weary
feeling of loneliness had settled again upon her heart by the time
Micky came to the door of the carriage.

"June is sure to be somewhere about," he said laconically. "Will you
stay here while I see if I can find her?"

She took a hurried step forward.

"No, I'll come with you."

She felt afraid of June's kindly quizzical eyes; June who knew why she
had run away to Paris, and what had been awaiting her there.

She touched Micky's arm--the eyes she raised to his face were
troubled.

"When shall I see you again?" she asked falteringly.

He half smiled.

"Why do you want to see me again?" he questioned gravely. "You can
have no use for me--after this!"

Esther flushed painfully. Through the crowd she saw June pushing
towards them. This was the last moment she would have with Micky, she
knew, and in a flash something seemed to tell her what this man had
meant to her during the last two terrible days.

"Oh," she said tremblingly, "if you only would let me thank you."

Micky laughed harshly--

"I hate thanks," he said.

June was upon them; she seized Esther and kissed her rapturously.

"You darling! You'll never know how glad I am to see you. I've been
here for hours. Aren't you dead tired? Micky, she looks worn out."

"Does she?" said Micky.

He was dead beat himself; he looked round vacantly.

"I wired Driver--I thought he'd be here...."

"Here, sir," said a voice at his elbow, and there was Driver, stolid
and impenetrable as ever.

Micky was unfeignedly glad to see the little man; for almost the
first time in his life he realised that sometimes dullness and
short-sightedness are a blessing in disguise. Apparently to
Driver there was nothing odd in this mad rush over to Paris; his
expressionless eyes saw the untidiness of his master' toilet without
changing.

"I've brought the car, sir," he said.

"Good man; get me a taxi, then. You must take the car down to your
rooms," Micky said to June. "No, don't argue; I insist----"

He put the two girls into the car; he did not look at Esther, though
he