They both turned from time to time to some one who stood behind them in the shadow; once the curtains moved a little and a man’s hand and arm showed distinctly.
Micky could bear it no longer; he touched Esther’s clasped hands.
“Are you ill?––would you like me to take you out?”
But she shook her head.
“No, no ... please leave me alone.”
June had discovered a friend in a seat a row or two 173 ahead with whom she was trying to carry on a conversation; she had no eyes for Micky or Esther. Micky gave a sigh of relief when the lights were lowered again; he could feel all that Esther was suffering, he could put himself in her place so thoroughly.
If he went round to the box and made sure if it were Ashton, perhaps that would be the best way; he could manage to give him the tip then to keep out of the way. He half rose in his seat, but Esther moved at once, laying her fingers on his arm.
“Oh, don’t go––don’t leave me here,” she said tremulously.
It was not the man himself she wanted, but his presence somehow gave her a feeling of confidence; if, indeed, it was Raymond up there in the box. She tried to argue herself out of the fancy; he would have let her know if he had come to London––surely she would have been the first to whom he would have come; she was mad to ever think the man up there in the background could be Raymond.
But the conviction was there in her mind.