"I asked her to let me think it over; I said I should like to talk it over with you first."

June clasped her hands round her knees and stared into the fire thoughtfully.

"She's a widow, isn't she?" Esther said hesitatingly. "At least--she didn't say anything about a husband."

"Yes, she's a widow right enough," June said. "And delighted to be, I should think," she added bluntly. "I never knew the departed spouse, but from all accounts he was a perfect terror."

Esther said nothing. Raymond had always spoken of his father as being a "rare old sport."

After a moment--

"There's a son, too," June said. "A kind of Adonis to look at, beautiful eyes and all that sort of thing."

"Yes," said Esther. She tried hard to keep the eagerness from her voice. "Do you--do you know the son too?" she asked nervously.

June gave a queer little laugh.

"Oh yes, I know him. That is to say, I say 'How d'ye do' to him when I have the misfortune to meet him, but----"

Esther's hands were clasped in her lap.

"Why--why--misfortune?" she asked.

June Mason shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't know--it's hard to explain--he's never done me any harm, but there are some people one hates by instinct, and Raymond Ashton is one of the people I hate." She smoothed a crease in the skirt of her frock. "He's such a--such an awful outsider," she added, unconsciously choosing the word Micky Mellowes had used a few hours before.

Esther sat very still. Twice she tried to speak, but no words would come. She knew that it was unfair to June to sit there and allow her to go on talking about Raymond, but something in her heart seemed to have set a seal on her lips.

"He's that insufferable kind of creature who thinks himself irresistible," June went on. "Micky has often told me the way he brags about his so-called 'conquests.' Conquests, indeed! What are they but a few poor ignorant girls hoodwinked by his handsome face and smooth tongue? Dozens of girls he's had, my dear, literally dozens! Only the other day some one told me that Mrs. Ashton had to threaten to cut him off with a shilling if he didn't give up some little person he was supposed to be going to marry! I don't know how true it is, mind you, but that's the sort of man he is--I've no time for him at all," she finished vigorously.

She turned to look at Esther, and gave a little exclamation of alarm.

"How pale you are! Don't you feel well?"

"I'm quite all right--I'm just tired--I don't think I'll go down to supper to-night. I'll just stay here and be quiet. I wanted to hear what you had to say about my future employer."

"Future fiddlesticks!" June retorted. "You're not going to her, my dear; I shan't let you. If Raymond came home while you were there, you'd never have any peace."

Esther was lying back now with closed eyes. Over and over again in her mind she was saying to herself--

"I don't believe it--I don't believe a word of it; it's all cruel lies--first Mr. Mellowes and now June. They both hate him, that's what it is; but I don't believe a word of what they say." June was bustling about the room fetching cushions and a light rug which she had laid over Esther.

"You have a little sleep, and you'll feel heaps better," she said.

She went away, shutting the door quietly; and Esther hid her face in her hands.

She hardly knew why she was crying, she only knew that she was utterly miserable.

She took Ashton's last letter from her dress and read it through again--how could any one, reading it, doubt that he loved her? How could any one, knowing his careful thought for her, believe that he was the detestable personality June and Micky had described?

She kissed the signature pa.s.sionately. n.o.body in all the world counted but this one man.

She got up and went over to June's desk, which both girls used; she felt that she must write to him and tell him how much she wanted him.

When she had finished writing she looked to the head of the paper on which she had written for the address, and then she saw a postscript scribbled in a corner which she had not noticed before.

"Don't write to me here--I shall have left this hotel by the time you get my letter. I will write again as soon as possible."

It was like a door with iron bars being closed in her face; she could not write after all! She could have no relief for all her longing and unhappiness; she must just wait and wait, eating her very soul out, till he wrote again.

She tore up what she had written and threw it into the fire.

"The phantom lover"--June's half playful, half mocking words came back to her with foreboding. Was he indeed only a phantom lover? Just a creation of her own brain and desire? She tried to thrust the thought from her; she was tired and fanciful; in the morning she would be all right; it was not fair to him, it was not fair to herself to be so doubting. She went back to June's couch and curled up amongst the mauve pillows; life was so hard, so disappointing; it gave so little of all that one desired; the tears fell again, presently she cried herself to sleep.

June came back on tiptoe; she stole across the room and looked at Esther, then she went back to the hearthrug to keep Charlie company.

The fire had died down and she replenished it as quietly as she could, putting a k.n.o.b on at a time with her fingers.

As she leaned over to poke them softly together she caught sight of a sc.r.a.p of paper lying in the grate. It looked like part of a torn letter, and without thinking June picked it up--the one word "dearest"

stared up at her in Esther's writing.

June looked at it for a long moment, then she turned her head and glanced at Esther, still sleeping.

June frowned; she hunched her shoulders impatiently.

"More phantom lover, I suppose," she told herself crossly; she threw the little sc.r.a.p of paper into the fire and watched it burn with a sort of vixenish delight.

CHAPTER XII

"I've decided to accept Mrs. Ashton's offer," said Esther suddenly.

It was the following afternoon, and she had been helping June paste labels on to the little mauve pots. She looked up as she spoke, with the paste brush still in her hand and her fingers all sticky.

"Did you hear what I said?" she demanded guiltily.

"Yes, I heard," June said rather tartly. "And I think you're a mean pig. However, go on! Have your own way! Don't mind me."

"It isn't that at all," Esther declared. "But I must do something--I've been idle quite long enough. I shall be sorry to leave you, but I shall still pay for my half of the room."

"Thank you--thank you very much," said June drily. Esther flushed in distress.

"Don't be so unkind! It's not that I want to leave you. I've been happier here with you than anywhere else, but I must work, I can't live on nothing...."

"You could live on three pounds a week if you wished to. What do you suppose the phantom lover will say if he knows that his money hasn't helped you, and that you're going to make a drudge of yourself?"

"I shan't be a drudge--I----"