"I blame myself. I always meant to tell you before things had gone as far as this. I shall never forgive myself for not having done so. I've behaved like a cad, but my only excuse is that I loved you; I wanted to spare you unnecessary pain----" He was no longer stammering and self-conscious, his voice was firm and steady. "I suppose I was a fool to imagine that I could ever make you care for me; I suppose it was conceit that led me to think I could ever cut out this ... this phantom lover of yours----" He laughed mirthlessly. "Esther, let me take you back home; it's no use seeing Ashton--it only means humiliation and pain for you." Her lips moved, but no words came. "Let me take you home to June," he went on. "She will tell you that what I say is only the truth. She knows him--she...." She spoke then. "She always hated him; it isn't likely she would wish me to marry him." She bit her lip. "Oh, it's no use saying any more," she broke out wildly after a moment. "I'm going to see him--I can't bear it if I don't see him--just once! I've got to hear the truth----" "I've told you the truth," he repeated doggedly. "It's no interest to me to try and prevent you from seeing him. I know I've done for whatever chance I had with you. Oh, for heaven's sake believe that it's only for your sake I want to take you back!" She shook her head. In her heart she found it impossible to believe him; she thought of the letters she had received from Raymond, the money--the presents--why even this coat she wore had come from him; she felt that she could laugh at this man opposite to her. A little smile curved her lips; a contemptuous smile it seemed to Micky. For the first time the injustice of it all seemed to strike him; for him who had done his best she had nothing but dislike and contempt, but for the man who had left her with a brutal letter of farewell, who had thrown her over because she had no money, she had endless faith and trust, and love! He broke out in his agitation. "I've tried to spare you--I've done my best, but you won't let me ... I've kept back the truth, but now you'll have to hear it if nothing else will keep you from him. He's never given you a thought since he left London--he imagines that you've forgotten him. It was he you saw at the Comedy Theatre that night when June and I were with you. He didn't even trouble to let you know that he was in London--that's how he cares for you--this man you refuse to believe one word against ..." His eyes flamed as they met hers. She was staring at him now; her face was white and incredulous. "If you--if you think I'm going to believe that----" she began, in a high, unnatural voice. She stopped; she seemed to realise all at once that he was speaking the truth. She leaned towards him. Her breath came in broken gasps. "Those letters!" she said shrilly. "Whose letters? They were from him--they were from him--weren't they from him?" she asked hoarsely. "No," said Micky doggedly.