"Oh, please," she said faintly, "oh, please tell me--what I am to do?" But for the next few minutes she was past remembering anything, though she never really lost consciousness. She only knew that everything was all right now Micky was here--and the sheer relief the knowledge brought with it for the time threw her into a sort of apathy. Some one took off her hat and the big fur coat that had grown so heavy; some one had bathed her face and unlaced her shoes, and now Micky stood there looking down at her with eyes that hurt, though they smiled. "I've told them to bring lunch in here," he went on. "You'll like it better than the public room--and I haven't had mine yet." Esther looked up at him. "And can we--can we go back to London to-day?" she asked. "We can go any time you like," he said. He felt he had aged years during that morning. No sooner had Esther got out of his sight at the station than he was beside himself with remorse for having allowed her to go; he had spent the whole morning wandering about looking for her. He had been to this hotel a dozen times; he had only just come in again when she followed. The relief of having her safely in his charge once more was almost more than he could bear. He walked over to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. "You won't ... you won't run away from me again, will you?" he asked. For the first time there was real emotion in his voice. Esther had been sitting looking into the fire; she raised her head now. "Don't go," she said tremulously. "Please don't go. I want to speak to you." He flushed crimson, he tried to make some excuse. "Another time.... You're tired. I'll come back presently. You ought to get some rest if we're to go back to-night." "No," she said. "It must be now." He shut the door, but he kept as far away from her as possible, standing over by the window that looked into the dreary winter garden. There was something implacable about his tall figure. "Oh, won't you come here?" she said. He obeyed at once. He rested an elbow on the mantelshelf and kept his eyes fixed on the fire. There as a little silence, then Esther said, almost in a whisper: "I want to beg your pardon. I hope you will--will try and forgive me." Micky did not move. She struggled on: "I've seen ... Mr. Ashton." Somehow she could not bring herself to speak of him by his Christian name. "And I know--I know--that I've been--been a fool." Her voice broke. She gripped the arms of the chair hard to keep herself from breaking down. Micky forced himself to speak. "I'm glad you've seen him--as you wished it," he said jerkily. "But as hoping I will forgive you, there's nothing to forgive--it's all the other way on. I behaved like--like a cad--it's for you to forgive me." He smiled faintly. "And now we've both said the right thing I'll go and see about that train," he said. But again she stopped him.