He felt ridiculously nervous when he reached Mrs. Ashton’s house. For the first time it occurred to him that possibly Esther would be here too.
He was kept waiting some minutes in the drawing room––minutes during which he wandered restlessly about staring at the pictures and the photographs.
There were many portraits of Raymond––Raymond at all stages of his chequered career, smiling and handsome. Micky turned his back on them with a feeling of disgust.
The door opened behind him, and, turning sharply, he found himself face to face with Mrs. Ashton.
She came forward with outstretched hand.
“This is kind of you, Mr. Mellowes. I did not know you had been away till I got your note this morning. I was wondering why I had had no reply to mine.”
Micky blurted out that he had been in Paris––that he only came back yesterday evening.
Mrs. Ashton’s face changed a little.
“Paris! Have you been with that son of mine?” she asked sharply.