t night?"

"Nowhere--at least--we were in the train all night. I did sleep a
little, but...."

June took her by the shoulders.

"Off you go to bed, and don't argue. I've had a fire put in your room,
and Charlie is there with a new bow on. I'll come and tuck you up when
you're ready, and...."

But Esther refused to move.

"I couldn't sleep if I went to bed. I want to tell you about--about
what's happened...." She paused breathlessly, but June was not going
to help her.

"I don't want to hear anything," she said flatly. She looked at Esther
and saw the tears in the younger girl's eyes. She put an arm round
her, drawing her down to the sofa.

"Tell me all about it, then," she said. "I'm just--just longing to
know."

"But there isn't much to tell, except----" Esther held out her left
hand. "I'm not engaged any more," she said with a faint attempt to
laugh. "He--Mr. Ashton--is married...."

"I know--Micky told me before we went to Enmore. I hope he's married a
vixen who'll lead him an awful dance. It would serve her right to let
her know the sort of man he is--to let her know the sort of letters
he's been writing to you--to show him up properly."

Esther hid her face in the mauve cushions.

"Oh, but he has never written to me," she said chokingly. "I've never
had a letter from him since he went away, and that was on New Year's
Eve. It's all been a mistake--a sham ... he never cared for me--he
never really wanted me...."

June threw away the cigarette and tried to raise Esther.

"What are you talking about? He did write to you--you told me yourself
that he wrote beautiful letters--he sent you that money--Esther! what
do you mean?"

Esther looked up; for a moment June caught a glimpse of misty, shamed
eyes.

"They weren't from him: those letters--the money never came from him,"
she said in a stifled voice.

"What! My good child, have you gone out of your mind?"

June was a hundred miles from guessing the truth. "If he didn't write
them, then who in the world did?" she demanded crisply. "And if he
didn't send the money, who in the wide world...."

She caught her breath on a sudden illuminating thought.

"Esther ... not--not--Micky!"

"Yes." It was the smallest whisper, and it was followed by a tragic
silence; then June got up and began walking aimlessly about the room;
she felt as if she had been robbed of all breath.

Twice she turned and looked at Esther's huddled figure, then she went
back, laid