"Oh!" There was a little silence; then Micky turned on his heel. "Well, good-night!" he said jerkily. He walked away, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed. A few yards down the road he almost cannoned into a man he knew. "Hullo, Philips! Where are you off to?" Philips stopped. "Hullo, Micky! Not coming my way? I'm going to the Delands. What's up with you? Haven't seen you for a week or more." "I've been seedy," Micky said hurriedly. "And the Delands are out. I've just called there myself." "Eh?" Philips tried hard to see his face through the darkness. "Rot," he said at last. "They've got a musical evening on--I had a special invite." Micky said nothing. This was a nasty blow; apparently the Delands were only "not at home" to him. Jove! he must have behaved caddishly. He walked on feeling very subdued. Had he quite lost his wits, he wondered, that for the sake of a girl who would have none of him he was willing to offend all his old friends? He tried to look at his behaviour from Marie Deland's point of view. Yes, it must look pretty rotten, he was forced to admit. He thought about it all the time he walked home. He asked himself honestly if this new game was worth the candle. Esther loved another man. Already she had shown him that she cared nothing for him or his friendship, and yet--yet---- Micky set his teeth. He had never wanted anything really badly in all his life before, but now he wanted this girl. "I'm not done yet, anyway," he told himself. "After all--let the best man win." He felt that he had decided a question of great importance as he went back to his rooms; it was a pleasant surprise to find Driver there; Micky beamed. "You've got back, then?" "Yes, sir." The man took Micky's hat and coat, and turned to go. Micky stared. "Everything all right?" he asked, with a touch of anxiety. "Yes, sir." "You posted the letter?" "Yes, sir, and had it weighed...." There was a little pause. "Is that all?" Micky asked. "Nothing else happened?" The man raised his expressionless eyes. "I should have got in this morning, sir, but we had a rough crossing, and I was ill----" Micky smiled. "Poor old Driver!--anything else?" "Yes, sir--I met Mr. Ashton in Paris. He seemed very surprised to see me there without you, sir." Micky's face changed; he had not counted on this. "Good Lord!" he said. "You didn't tell him you----?" Driver raised his eyes. "I never tell anybody anything, sir," he said woodenly. Micky breathed a sigh of relief. "Good man.... He was alone, of course?" "Alone at the hotel, but I saw him out driving twice with the same lady, sir." "You saw him out twice--driving with the same lady?" Micky echoed the man's words vaguely. "All right--you can go." "Thank you, sir." Driver departed, closing the door noiselessly.