Micky said “Rot!” rather uncomfortably. “If the fellow is travelling––moving about....”
“He could give her an address and have the letters sent on, couldn’t he?” June demanded.
Micky rubbed his chin.
“What’s she want to write to him for?” he asked presently.
June swung round, and a second bun almost shared the fate of the first, but she grabbed it back in time.
“What does she want to write to him for?” she echoed with scorn. “My poor child, what does any one want to write to any one for? She’s in love with the man, and when you’re in love you simply have to write it down––at least, that’s what I understand from people with wide experience. Esther’s bursting to write and tell the phantom lover how much she loves him and what a wonderful man he is; as a matter of fact she does write to him, and tears the letters up again, and that’s no satisfaction. 121 I wish to goodness he’d get run over and done with,” she added exasperatedly.
“I don’t suppose she wishes it,” said Micky.
“That’s because she doesn’t know what’s good for her; he was probably the first man who had ever paid her any attention, and from what she says he’s a bit of a swell, and I suppose she was flattered....”
“Rot!” said Micky violently; it made him boil to hear June say things like this. Ashton superior to Esther? It was like the man’s confounded impudence to even think such a thing.
“Not such rot,” June said wisely. “And that’s what all the trouble is about, or my name’s not what it is. He has a stuck-up old cat of a mother who won’t condescend to know Esther.... What did you say?”