She was amazed at the sudden change in his face; a look of furious anger flashed into his eyes; he rose to his feet.
“You’re not serious?” he said quietly.
Esther laughed; she felt painfully nervous without knowing why.
“Serious? Indeed I am!” she answered. “Mr. Mellowes, what are you doing?...”
Micky had caught her hands. Jealousy was driving him with whips of fire––jealousy of this phantom lover, whom he himself had created.
“You’re not to go,” he said hoarsely. “I––I––I can’t bear to think of you having to work for your living. There’s no need––it’s all nonsense. You’d hate being at the Ashtons.... Esther–––”
She wrenched herself free; she was white to the lips.
“You must be mad!” she said. “How dare you speak like this? What is it to you what I do? How dare you try to interfere? What business is it of yours?”
Micky laughed shakily; he had recovered himself a little now.
“It’s everything to me,” he said rather hoarsely. “You must know that it is. Esther, will you marry me?”