She wished she could stop thinking. She was so tired, she wanted to sleep; but the wheel of thought went on and on in her brain. The miles seemed to crawl by. Soon the fields and open country were left behind; the houses were closer together; presently they crowded one another, almost jostling each other out of the way, it seemed. What an ugly place London was. She sat up with a little shiver. Strange how cold she felt, and yet her head was burning hot. Would this journey never end? Surely they had been travelling for days and days already. The train stopped with a jerk. "Paddington ... all change--all change...." Esther stumbled to her feet. CHAPTER XXVI Micky had just reached the unpretentious inn in the village where he had taken a room, when he was hailed from across the road by June; a very cheerful looking June, in a business-like coat and skirt of rough tweed, and carrying a walking-stick, which she proceeded to wave at him vigorously. "Back so soon!" She came across to where he stood by the car, and looked at his despondent face. "Not another row?" she demanded tersely. Micky frowned. "No--merely a sort of frigid silence this time," he said savagely, then he laughed. "It's no use, June, I may as well throw up the sponge. I seem to put my foot in it whatever I do." June drew a pattern in the mud at her feet. "Well, what have you done?" she asked. "Esther was all right this morning, and quite pleased to be going with you. I certainly never expected to see either of you till this afternoon. Where did you go?" Micky shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some little one-eyed place. We stopped at an inn and had some coffee, and that seemed to finish it." "What, the coffee?" asked June with a twinkle. Micky turned away. "If you're going to make a joke of everything----" he said with dignity. She laid her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, old boy. But you do explain things so badly, you know. You had coffee at the inn, yes--and then----" "I went outside to start up the engine, and when I came back she seemed to have utterly changed. She even looked different and she hardly spoke all the way home." "It must be your imagination." He shook his head. "No, it isn't; and when we got home she went indoors without even saying good-bye--confound her!" he added in savage parenthesis. "Oh, Micky!" said June reproachfully. He coloured. "I didn't mean that, but I'm so fed-up with everything----" He leaned his elbow on the side of the car and looked away from her down the road. "I think I'll get back to town this afternoon," he said after a moment. "I was a fool to come at all." June looked at him silently. "Well, what are you thinking?" he asked. She roused herself and answered briskly. "I think you want your lunch, that's what I think, and I'm going to take you back with me to have some. Aunt Mary is expecting you----" Her queer eyes twinkled. "Micky, she's quite made up her mind that you've come down here after me."