She threw off her wrap and snatched up a paper fan from the table. Micky sat down between the two girls.
“Miss Shepstone didn’t want to see Mrs. Ashton, I rather fancy,” he said coolly. He looked at Esther with a slight smile in his eyes. “I believe she was afraid Mrs. Ashton would demand a reason for having had her kind offer so cavalierly refused,” he went on banteringly.
Esther laughed.
“Yes, I believe I was,” she admitted. “I’m an awful coward over explaining things to people.”
“So am I,” said Micky drily. He was wondering how he was ever going to explain the most difficult occurrence of his whole life, and if, when he had done so, it would ever be believed.
He looked at Esther a great deal during dinner; he had never seen her so animated; her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed; she talked a great deal, and was particularly friendly to him; he was quite sorry when it was time to go on to the theatre.
As they left the restaurant he noticed that she kept close to him again, and that she looked anxiously round for Mrs. Ashton.
“It’s all right,” he said. “She’s upstairs in the gallery.”
She smiled. She thought he was very quick to understand her. Raymond had never seemed to understand things without an explanation. She wished he had been rather more like Micky in some ways; she wished––she looked up at Micky guiltily; how could she compare the two men?––the one whom she loved, and the other whom she did not even like!