The other car with its two occupants had vanished down the road some minutes since; only a small cloud of grey dust on the horizon showed which way they had gone. Micky drove back faster than he had come. Once or twice he looked down at Esther with an anxious pucker between his eyes. What had happened in those few minutes to make this sudden change? he wondered. She had been happy and smiling enough this morning; now all that he could see of her face, half hidden in the big upstand collar of the coat he had given her, were two piteous blue eyes staring steadily ahead of her down the road. They had gone some miles almost silently when he felt that he could bear it no longer. He stopped the car almost savagely and turned in his seat. "What's the matter? What have I done now?" he asked roughly. "You weren't like this when we came out. If I've done anything to annoy you...." She forced herself to laugh. It would be the last straw if she broke down now. "How absurd!" she said in a high-pitched voice. "Nothing is the matter. I'm tired, that's all; I shall be glad to get home." He was not satisfied. "You're not telling me the truth," he said. His mind searched anxiously back to the short time they had stayed in the inn. What could have happened? They had seen nobody there except the two men with the racing car. "Those two fellows who came in--they didn't annoy you, or anything like that, when I was out of the room?" She shook her head. "Of course not; they never spoke to me." "If you won't tell me what I've done, how can I hope to put things right?" he said. It was always like this, he told himself savagely; one little step onward and a dozen back. He did not speak again till they got home. Esther got out of the car without waiting for him, and went on into the house. After a moment Micky followed. Esther was in the hall; she turned to him impatiently. "Every one is out," she said. "Miss Dearling and June are both out." There was a sort of strain in her voice which Micky could not understand. She looked as if she had had some bad shock, and yet what could have happened? He had not left her for more than a few minutes. "Very well, I won't wait," he said formally. He spoke curtly; he felt sore enough; he raised his hat stiffly and turned away. He looked back once at the little house. He thought perhaps Esther might be standing at the door in case he should turn, but the door was shut, and it was impossible for him to guess that upstairs in the room over the porch Esther had shut and locked the door and was pacing up and down the room, her hands pressed hard against her eyes, sobbing--great tearless sobs that seemed to rend her very heart. "It's not true--it's not true," she said over and over again under her breath. "It's not true--it's not true...." The striking of a church clock in the village seemed to rouse her. June would be back soon, and Miss Dearling.