Micky broke out then. “Oh, hold your infernal tongue,” he said furiously.
He walked out of the room, shutting the door hard behind him. He passed the astonished maid in the hall and let himself out into the night. The blood was pounding in his veins, he felt in actual need of physical violence; he did not know how he had managed to keep his hands off Raymond. He walked on at a furious pace; presently he laughed with a sort of self-pity.
What was the good of what he had done after all? At best he had only succeeded in staving off the inevitable for a little while; Esther would have to know sooner or later.
Such wasted love it was! All for a man who was not worth one thought, or even a tear!
When he got back to his rooms he told Driver to call him early, as he was going to see somebody off by train. He was at Victoria long before Ashton; the greeting between the two men was constrained.
“I was going back to-day, anyway,” Ashton said 180 jauntily. “I’m going to be married the day after to-morrow–––” He looked at Micky with triumphant eyes. “To Mrs. Clare,” he added.
When Micky got back to his rooms, Driver met him; Driver with a spark of unwonted animation in his dull eyes, and who closed the sitting-room door mysteriously behind him as he came forward.
“If you please, sir––there is a lady to see you.”
“A lady!” said Micky blankly; then he laughed. “Rubbish! You’re dreaming, man.”