June pushed her away. "Oh, you make me tired!" she said crossly. "Why will you insist on belittling yourself? Who on earth is this wonderful man that he sets himself up for such a model of superiority? He can't be anybody if he's ashamed of you. You don't like Micky, I know, but, with all his money and position, if he loved you he'd be only too proud to shout it from the housetops, and not care a hang what the world thought. There's no rotten pride about Micky--if he loved a beggar girl he'd be proud of it.... No, don't say any more, it makes me boil!" She lit another cigarette and puffed at it furiously. "Do you--do you think I should go with Mr. Harley, then?" Esther asked presently. Her pretty face was flushed and troubled. "No, I don't," said June emphatically. "I think you ought to please yourself. I don't want to advise you, but it does seem to me that you're throwing away any chance of real happiness for a--for a, what do they call it?--something beginning with a 'c'...." "Chimera," said Esther. She sat with downcast eyes for a moment, then suddenly she began to cry. Perhaps in her heart she felt in some mysterious way that June was right, that this girl, with her odd instinct, had put her hand right on the heart of things, and that her happiness did not really lie with Raymond Ashton. And yet she loved him. Night and day he was never out of her thoughts. She slept with his letters under her pillow. Since he went away he had done much to blot out all that had gone before. And yet sometimes the memory of that past unhappiness, of its disagreements and quarrels and petty unkindnesses would raise its ugly head and look at her with a sort of leer as if daring her to forget entirely. June was all remorse in a moment. "I'm a pig!" she said disgustedly. "I ought to be kicked. Why do you let me talk so much? It's awful cheek of me to dare to criticise you. I'll never do it again. He may be an angel for all I know. Esther, if you don't stop crying I shall cry too, and then there'll be a nice sort of noise." Esther dried her eyes and laughed shakily. "I'm silly; I don't know why I cried. There's nothing to cry for," she protested. "That's why women always cry," said June hardily. CHAPTER X Esther climbed the stairs of the agency again the following morning. There was a little feeling of despondency in her heart. She had slept badly, and she had not been able to forget what June had said about Ashton. Esther was influenced by June's "instincts," as she chose to call them; she knew it was foolish, but the fact remained all the same. When she opened the waiting-room door she felt half inclined to turn and go away again. She would only meet with the same answer: "Nothing that will suit you to-day, Miss Shepstone." But for a wonder the room was almost empty, and the tall and stately one was standing at the communicating door. When she saw Esther she came forward.