Micky looked across at Esther––her whole face was transformed as she turned eagerly with outstretched hand.
There was a moment of silence, then she gave a little sigh of utter contentment. June sniffed inelegantly––Micky looked hard into the fire; his heart was thumping; that letter ought to have been delivered yesterday, he knew; it was cursed bad luck that it should arrive while he was here.
There was a little silence in the room while Esther opened it. She seemed to have forgotten that she was not alone. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her whole face tremulous.
June was bustling about, making a great clatter with the teacups. Micky got up and began to prowl round the room; his nerves felt jumpy. Because he knew so well who had written that letter he was sure every one else must know it too. Presently June nudged him as she passed. When he looked at her she made a little grimace.
“Isn’t it awful?” she said in a stage whisper.
Micky smiled stiffly.
“Can’t I help get the tea?” he asked. “Toast some buns or something?”
“There aren’t any to toast,” she told him. “Sit down and make yourself at home. Esther!”––she raised her voice elaborately––“are you going to have any tea, my child?”
Esther had come to the end of her letter; she folded it hurriedly and put it away; she cast a quick look at Micky, but he did not see it. June was chattering away.
“So Esther is going on Monday,” she informed Micky, “and I shall be left once more to my lonesome. I’m not at all sure that I shall stay on myself,” she added. 152 “It’s been so jolly having some one to share this room with me that I’m not looking forward to my own eternal company.”