That she did not particularly care if she saw him again or not, he was miserably sure. She had no thoughts for any one but Ashton. He felt as if he could not settle to anything. On the third morning Marie Deland rang him up. He had told her many times that her voice on the telephone cheered him, but to-day it made him frown. He tried to answer her cheery "That you, Micky?" as cheerily, but he knew it was a failure. "What's the matter?" she asked quickly. "Aren't you well? Or are you cross?" There was a hint of laughter in her voice. She had never known Micky cross; he was always the cheeriest of mortals. Micky grabbed at the excuse she offered him. "I've got a brute of a headache," he said. "Poor old boy!" The pretty, sympathetic voice irritated him. "Come out for a walk; it will do you good." "Thanks--thanks awfully, but I don't think it would. I'm a perfect bear--you'd hate me. Some other time." There was a little pause. Micky could have kicked himself as he remembered on what terms they had parted. It was not her fault that a miracle had happened since then to metamorphose the whole world. He supposed uncomfortably that she was just the same as she had been when he last saw her. He knew she must be wondering why he had stayed away so long. He tried to soften his words. "I'll look in to-night, if I may. Sorry to be such a bear." She answered rather dispiritedly that it was all right, that she was sorry he felt ill. It was a relief when she rang off. He took his hat and went off to call on Esther. He felt that he could settle to nothing till he had seen her again; there was a curious jealousy in his heart about Ashton; he would have given anything he possessed to be able to disillusion her, but knew it was impossible without hopelessly compromising himself. It was a bitter disappointment to find that she was out when he reached the boarding-house; his face fell absurdly when he turned and walked away. He wondered if she really was out, or only out to him. After a moment he laughed at himself. A few days ago he had not known there was such a person as Esther Shepstone in the world, and yet now here he was, consumed with jealousy because she was not in when he called. He took a taxicab back to the West End; he walked about for half an hour staring aimlessly into shop windows, then went back to his rooms. He could not understand his extraordinary restlessness; he had only once before felt anything like it in all his life, and that had been the first time he ever backed a horse, and was waiting a wire from the course to say if the brute had won. He recalled the fever of impatience that had consumed him then, and laughed; after all, it had been nothing compared with this. Driver came into the room. "If you please, sir, Miss Mason has been on the 'phone. She said would I ask you to meet her for tea." Micky did not look enthusiastic; he liked June awfully, but to-day every one and everything seemed a bore.