Micky turned away. He was half way to the dining-room before it suddenly dawned upon him that they did not know he was expecting letters in the name of Ashton––that he had forgotten to tell them. He went back hurriedly to the bureau.
“Any letters for Ashton?––I am expecting one for a friend of mine of that name....”
He waited breathlessly while the girl sorted through the pigeon-holes on the wall; he felt as if he could hardly breathe when she came back with a grey envelope in her hand.
“Mais oui....” she said smilingly. “I did not know it was for monsieur....”
Mickey almost snatched it from her; he had not even glanced at the writing, but he knew it must be from Esther. He sat down at the breakfast table with his thoughts in a whirl; he was sure that the waiter must know how excited he felt. He ordered coffee and rolls before he opened the envelope; he laid it down on the cloth beside him and stared at it very much as a sentimental girl might stare at her first love-letter, hesitating to open it, wishing to prolong the ultimate delight.
Finally he cut it open carefully and drew out the contents. His pulses were racing, he did not know if shame or delight were the greatest emotion in his heart; he glanced at the first two words and the blood rushed to his face.
It seemed almost sacrilege to read what she had written to the man she loved––he pushed the paper back into its envelope––he did not look at it again till he had finished his pretence of a meal, then he took it out with him into the rather dingy winter garden and sat down in the quietest corner he could find.
There he faced the greatest moment of his life; as to whether he should go on with this thing or wipe it out of his life once and for all.
Ashton had done with Esther; he was as sure of that as he was sure that Ashton meant to marry Mrs. Clare. This being so, was it wrong of him to try and give Esther some happiness in place of what she had lost? She had refused to marry him––she had said that she could never care for him; could he hope to make her change her mind? In his heart he was sure that he could; he wanted her so badly that it seemed to him as if the very force of his desire must compel some return from her.