“You haven’t told me where you are staying,” Ashton said.
“No––and I’m going away to-morrow anyway.... When are you coming back to town?”
Ashton looked quickly at his companion. “Oh, not yet awhile,” he said.
“I see.” Micky met his eyes steadily. “By the way, I got your letter,” he said after a moment. “You didn’t ask about that letter you gave me. I posted it–––”
Raymond turned crimson. “The letter––oh yes, thanks––thanks, very much. You didn’t take it then?”
“No, I posted it.” Micky’s voice was flinty.
“Er––thanks awfully!” Ashton said again. He twisted his moustache nervously. “I’ll see you some other time,” he said with a rush. “I’ll drop you a line.”
“Right oh!” said Micky laconically.
“I hope I shall see you again too, Mr. Mellowes,” Mrs. Clare said. She thought she was saying the right thing. She thought these two men were friends, and she was sufficiently in love with Raymond to wish to be liked by his friends.
“Thank you, Mrs. Clare,” Micky said stolidly. “But I am going back to London to-morrow; I am afraid I shall have very little time, though I should be delighted, of course–––”