iss Mason dropped the cushion to the floor, and stooping picked
Charlie up and deposited him on it.

"Doesn't he look sweet?" she demanded. "And a black cat is lucky too,
you know, so that's a comfort."

She went back to the teapot, made the tea, and poured out a cup for
Esther.

"Is that chair comfy?--yes, lean back! What are you looking at? Oh, my
photographs! Yes. I have got a lot, haven't I? Lydia dusts them for
me! Lydia's a treasure! You'll love her. When I get married she's
going to leave here and come with me----"

Esther looked interested.

"Are you going to be married?" she asked.

Miss Mason laughed.

"Am I? No, I'm not. I'm too fond of my independence. Not that I don't
like men. I do like them, and I've got some awfully good pals amongst
them, too. Look!"

She turned with one of her rapid movements, caught up a photograph
from the shelf and handed it to Esther.

"There! that's one of the nicest men I ever met in my life," she said
enthusiastically. "Don't you think he's got a ripping face?"

Esther took the portrait laughingly--she thought June Mason one of the
most amusing people she had ever met--then she caught her breath on a
little smothered exclamation as she found herself looking straight
into the pictured eyes of Micky Mellowes.

June Mason was too occupied with a fresh cigarette to notice the blank
look that filled Esther's eyes.

She sat there in the big chair, staring at Micky's portrait with a
sense of foreboding. Surely it was something bigger than just chance
that had introduced him into her life for the second time.

"He's one of the best," June Mason went on. She dragged forward
another chair and plumped down into it comfortably.

"Don't you admire him?" She opened her eyes wide, looking across at
Esther.

"Yes, oh yes! I think he's quite nice," Esther said stiltedly. "But
not a bit good-looking, do you think?" she asked, with a sort of
hesitation.

Miss Mason took the portrait from her and held it at arm's length.

"Um!" she said critically. "Perhaps he isn't, but I like him so much,
you see, that I'm not a fair judge. He's been a good friend to me, at
all events."

She got up, replaced the frame on the shelf, and plumped back once
more amongst her mauve cushions.

"My people wanted me to marry him at one time," she went on airily. "I
might have done so only I liked him too well. He didn't care for me,
except as a friend, and it seemed a shame to spoil it, so I put