June leaned across the table and looked at him with accusing eyes. "Never? On your word of honour, Micky?" Micky laughed and coloured. "Well, perhaps--once!" he admitted. "But that's beside the point, isn't it?... I'll think things over and write to you." "Yes, but soon, Micky, soon! It's not a case where you can sit down with your feet on the mantelpiece and give yourself a week to turn things over in your mind. I want to know at once, to-morrow--to-night, if possible. I know what Esther is--she'll be gone before I can turn round, and I should hate her to go. I haven't got many friends, and I do feel that she and I are going to be real friends--great friends ... I don't know when I've taken such a fancy to anybody----" "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that," said Micky. His eyes were shining. Then he realised that he had displayed rather unnecessary warmth and hastened to amend his words. "I always said that what you wanted was a real woman friend," he added more quietly. June was drawing on her gloves; she had very white hands and beautifully-kept finger-nails, and she was very proud of them. "Never mind me," she said briskly. "You bustle about and find a post for Esther, and I'll love you for ever. Are we ready?" She rose and gathered up her various belongings. Micky declared that she was always laden with small, oddly-shaped parcels. "Samples, my dear man, samples!" she said briskly when Micky asked if he might not be allowed to carry some. "And they're much too precious to risk you dropping any." "There's just one stipulation," Micky said as he followed her downstairs again. "You're not to tell Miss Shepstone anything about me--I'm going to be very strict on this subject. Will you promise?" "Bless your heart, yes--and if you come to tea one day----" "Oh, I don't think I'll come to tea," Micky said hastily. "I should only feel rotten--self-conscious and all the rest of it, even if I was quite sure she didn't know anything--not that there's anything to know yet," he added quickly. "I may not be able to help her." Miss Mason laughed. "Oh, you'll help her right enough," she said breezily. "I know you." She dismissed him when they reached the street. "No, I don't want you to come with me; I've got some business to see to and you'd only be a nuisance." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Good-bye, and thanks ever so much Micky. You'll write to me--or wire?" "As soon as there is anything to report." He raised his hat and turned away, and June dived across the road, perilously near to a motor-omnibus, clutching her samples jealously to her heart. "It'll be all right now," she told herself, with a sense of comfort. "Everything's always all right as soon as Micky gets hold of it."