Micky stooped to examine the collar; his face was red when, after a moment, he looked up again. "Esther declares she never told him we'd got a cat," June told him doubtfully. "But, of course, she must have done so or else the man's got second sight." Micky was drinking his tea; he choked suddenly. A feeling of panic closed upon him. Never told him she'd got a cat! of course she hadn't! What a fool he had been to make such a blunder--what an utter blockhead. "I expect she did tell him," he managed to say. "Yes, that's what I think." June lit a cigarette and passed the lighted match over to Micky. "Anyway, Esther goes about the place singing all day," she added drily. "There's no doubt at all that she's up in the seventh heaven of happiness. Reams of letters the man writes her. Perhaps, as the novels tell us, love is a wonderful thing----" She looked at Micky with a comical expression in her queer eyes. "I should say it must be if it's reformed that man," she added cynically. Micky said nothing. He had been very uncomfortable about things during the last few days. As far as he could find out, Ashton had not yet been married. Supposing it had all been bluff when he said he was going to be married--supposing he turned up again in London? Micky stayed as long as he could in case Esther came in; it was only when he began to feel sure that June knew why he was dragging his visit to such a length that he said he ought to be going. "There's no hurry," she said kindly. "Why not wait till Esther comes in?" Micky shook his head; he said he couldn't spare the time, but in his heart he knew quite well that he intended to wait. "I suppose she--er--she never talks any more about taking a job now, eh?" he asked after a moment. "No, I don't think so; that man's word is law to her, you know. I believe if he said 'Come out here and marry me at once,' she'd fly off by the next train. As a matter of fact, I'm expecting something of the sort almost daily." "I don't think she'll do that," Micky said. He stood back to the fire, with his hands in his pockets, staring up at the ceiling. "No!" June watched him quizzically. "Do you know, Micky," she said at last, "that I consider you've altered a lot lately?" He swung round at once, and scrutinised himself in the glass over the mantelshelf. "For the worse, or the better?" he asked anxiously. "I know I never was exactly an Adonis." She laughed merrily. "I don't mean your face, stupid, but yourself. You're quieter, you don't go about so much; in fact"--she challenged him deliberately--"I believe you're in love." "So I am," said Micky stolidly. She pretended not to take him seriously. "It's no joking matter--I mean what I say."