In his heart he was convinced that she did not believe him, but he had no intention of telling her Esther’s name; he longed to know if Esther were in the house, but, of course, it was impossible to ask.
It almost seemed as if Mrs. Ashton could read his thoughts, for she said suddenly––
“Do you know, Mr. Mellowes, that I am going to have a companion?”
Micky echoed her last word vacantly.
“Companion?––I––er....”
“Yes, a girl,” Mrs. Ashton went on; “I have always envied people with daughters; a daughter is so much more to a mother than a son; but as I was not fortunate enough to have one of my own I am going to try having a companion. Raymond will be annoyed, I dare say––he has always pooh-poohed the idea when I have mentioned it to him, but now–––” she shrugged her shoulders and sighed impatiently. “Well, he can no longer object, I think, seeing that he is to be married himself....”
Micky made a little quick movement, almost knocking over a vase of flowers standing at his elbow; he recovered himself with an effort.
“Married?” he said. “Why, I thought....” he broke off. “He did not say anything about it to me when I met him in Paris,” he said lamely.
“No?” Her handsome eyes searched his agitated face critically. “Well, he is to be married all the same,” she said. “I heard from him only this morning. He is engaged to Tom Clare’s widow––Tubby Clare, I believe he was always called.”