Micky frowned. If there was one thing he hated it was for any one to remark on his appearance. He answered brusquely that he had never been better in his life.
“By the way, I was going to write when you rang up,” he said. “I’ve got some tickets for a first night to-morrow. Would you care to come along and––and bring Miss Shepstone?”
June beamed. She liked going out with Micky.
“I should love it,” she said with enthusiasm. “I can’t answer for Esther, though.”
“Try to persuade her,” he urged carelessly. “I don’t suppose she’s been about much; it would do her good.”
“She told me she loves theatres,” June admitted; “but the trouble will probably be that she hasn’t got a dress.”
“A dress?” Micky echoed vaguely. “Can’t you lend her one of yours?”
June laughed.
“My dear boy, she’s much taller than me and slimmer. ... However, I’ll see what can be done. Where shall we meet you?”