He was at the bottom of the stairs; the face he turned over his shoulder to Micky looked pale and harassed.
Micky quickened his steps and joined his friend in the porch below; they stood together out on the path waiting for a taxicab.
Micky glanced at Ashton with a curious sense of unreality; he felt as if he had never seen him before; it seemed impossible that this Ashton could know Esther––and Charlie!
A taxicab drew up to the kerb; Ashton banged open the door and got in. Micky followed, and they drove some way in silence.
“I’ll take thundering good care I don’t stay away long,” Ashton said suddenly, with a sort of growl. “And if the mater thinks it will make me forget Lallie–––”
“I thought her name was Esther,” said Micky quietly. He was looking out of the window into the starry night.
“So it is––but I always call her Lallie.” He looked at his friend with a sort of vague suspicion. “How do you know what her name is?” he asked.
“I saw it on the letter you gave me.”
Ashton grunted.