"I believe I should like to live in the country, after all," she said suddenly. "You seem to be able to really breathe down here; it's not shut in like London is." "Dear old London," Micky said. "We all run it down, but we're all glad to get back there when we've been away for more than a few days." He leaned forward, wrapping the rug more closely round her. "Where do you think you will live when you are married?" he asked. The hot colour flooded her face; she looked up at him in a scared sort of way. "What a question! How do I know? I've never even thought about it." "Haven't you?" said Micky. "I have, crowds of times. I've worked it all out to a nicety. I shall have a house in London and a place in the country as well, so that if my wife doesn't like town we can divide our time and stay six months at each." "We are not all rich like you are, you know," Esther said drily. "I dare say when I get married--if I ever do--I shall just have a little flat somewhere and stay there for the rest of my life, and be very happy too," she added with a sort of defiance. "Yes," said Micky after a moment. "I think I could be very happy in a flat, too, for the rest of my life--with the right woman." He looked down at her, smiling thoughtfully "The only trouble is, that I shall probably have to marry the wrong one." "If you do, it will be your own fault, I should think," said Esther, laughing. She could not quite understand this man. Had he ever really loved her, or had it all just been a pretence? "No," said Micky promptly. "I think it will be your fault." Esther raised her eyes slowly. Micky was smiling. "Yes, I mean it," he said seriously. "The first time I ever saw you I thought to myself, 'Here she is! That right woman I've been waiting for all my life'--but, of course, you didn't think I was the right man, and so that ended it," he added philosophically. Esther did not like to hear him speak so lightly. She would have been surprised if she could have known the desperate unhappiness in his heart, the bitterness that drove him to speak so flippantly of all that he held best and dearest. She made no attempt to answer him, and presently he said again with change of voice-- "Are you hungry, I wonder? Because I am! And I've got a firm conviction that we're coming to a wayside inn. Do you see the chimneys through the trees?..." He slowed the car a little. "There's another car outside--what do you say? Shall we risk it?" "It would be rather nice," Esther admitted. She was feeling cold; she was rather glad when the car stopped and Micky gave her his hand. "They've got a fire anyway," he said cheerily. "I saw it through the window, and we'll ask for some coffee." He led the way into the parlour. Two men wrapped in heavy coats stood by the fire; they moved to make way for Esther. After a moment they went out of the room, and she saw them in the road bending over the car next to Micky's.