June raked up another appointment for the following day. "I'm behaving like an angel to you," she told Micky. "Yesterday I tramped about the fields till I was worn out so that I should be out of the way and Esther could meet you. Oh, she didn't want to go at all," she hastened to add as she saw the look of pleasure that filled his eyes. "I had to make her go." "Yes, I quite believe that," Micky said. He was standing beside the car at Miss Dearling's gate, and Esther was upstairs putting on her hat. She had protested twenty times that she did not really want to go; she had begged June to take her place; she had implored Micky to take June instead; but they had both refused. "I'm not keen on motoring when it's cold," June declared. "Besides, I've got my business to see to, and I don't want Micky. You go, Esther, and amuse the poor soul!--just to please me." Esther said "Very well," and tried to look as if she were not anxious at all, but she was really looking forward to another drive. "Didn't you really want to come?" Micky asked as they drove away. Esther laughed. "Of course I did; I wanted to come so badly I had to pretend that I didn't just for decency's sake." There was a little silence. "Did you have good news from Paris yesterday?" he asked deliberately. He felt as if he must speak of Ashton to in some way check the wave of joy that had filled his heart at her words; it was not to be with him that she had wished to come, but for the drive and the comfort of the car. He saw how her face clouded at his question. "Yes, thank you," she said, but her voice did not sound very enthusiastic. Presently: "Mr. Mellowes," she said suddenly, "do you know that I have always been sorry that I did not go to Paris that day when I wanted to?--I wish I had now." "Why now?" Micky asked. She gave a little troubled laugh. "I don't know. I really can't explain." She did not understand herself what she really meant, but last night when she had read Raymond's letter, it had suddenly come over her with a sickening feeling of dismay that in some indefinite way he was really getting to be what June had always called him--a phantom lover! It seemed so long since she had seen him. After all, what were letters and words? But she could not explain this to Micky. "I think I know what you mean," he said after a moment. "You are getting tired of this separation. Is that it? Letters are all very well, but they are not enough...." She looked up at him in surprise. "Why, that is just what I do mean? How did you know?" He laughed rather ruefully. "Perhaps I've felt like it myself," he said. "Have you?" There was a little note of wonderment in her voice. "I said 'perhaps,'" he reminded her. She changed the subject; she drew his attention to the country through which they were passing. It was bare and wind-swept, but there was a sort of rugged picturesqueness about it that appealed to Esther.