Micky hung up the receiver and turned away. He was sorry to disappoint June, and yet he had no smallest intention of meeting Esther. If she had wanted him she would have sent a note or a message--but she did not want him! More than once she had said that she hated him--it was time to learn that she meant what she said. Micky's pride had got the upper hand at last, and he would rather have died now than make the smallest overture to the girl at whose feet he had once been willing to grovel. Driver came to the door: "A parcel, sir. Shall I bring it in?" Micky answered absently: "All right." Driver went out of the room. After a moment he came back with a square box which he set down on the table. "Shall I open it, sir?" he asked, as Micky did not speak. Micky started. "Yes; oh, yes--open it. What the dickens is it? I haven't ordered anything." Driver said that he did not know--that it had been left by a messenger. He untied the knotted string with neat precision, and rolled it into a ball before he removed the paper. Micky walked up to the table and lifted the lid with faint curiosity. "A fur coat," he said blankly. "A fur----" He stopped. For a moment he stood staring down into the box, then he let the lid fall over it again. "All right--you can go," he said. Driver walked to the door stoically, and Micky went back to the fire. So she would not even keep the fur coat! She cared so little for him that she must needs send back his paltry gifts. What a fool he was to care--what a fool! Driver, coming back for a moment, stopped petrified in the doorway. Micky was standing by the mantelpiece with his face buried in his arms. CHAPTER XXXV It was late that night when Micky turned up at the Delands'. He had taken extravagant pains with his toilet, lingering over it as long as possible. Ever since the arrival of that parcel from Esther, he had been trying to make up his mind to take the irrevocable step, and ask Marie Deland to be his wife. He was miserably sure that she would accept him, miserably sure that he was already forgiven for the past. He kept on persuading himself that it was the one and only thing left to him to do. He tried to believe that once the affair was settled, he would find some sort of happiness. After all, what did it matter whom he married if it could not be Esther? He looked pale but determined when he walked into the Delands' drawing-room and found Marie there alone. She turned to greet him with a little eager movement that was somehow comforting. Here, at any rate, was some one who really cared for him and was glad to see him. He took the hand she held out and, bending, kissed it. She caught her breath on a little sound that was almost a sob, but she checked it instantly and tried to laugh. "This is almost like old times," she said. "Quite like old times," Micky answered recklessly. "We've just turned the pages back again and gone on where we left off, that's all."