“I think it would be better if you posted it to her yourself and have done with it,” Micky said with an effort. “I’m a rotten hand at this sort of thing. It can’t do any good if I go and see her.”
“You said you would go––you might be a sport and stick to your word,” Ashton protested. “I’d do the same for you any day.”
Micky rather doubted it, but did not like to say so.
“If you knew how sick I am about the whole business,” Ashton went on jerkily. “You may not believe me, but I tell you, Micky, that I’d marry that girl to-morrow if only–––”
“If only––what?” Micky asked as he paused.
“Oh, you know! What the dickens can I do without a bob to my name except what the mater chooses to dole out? I tell you,” he went on with a sort of snarl, “it’ll be very different when I get the money. Gad! if only I’d got it now!”
“Money isn’t everything,” said Micky sententiously. “And if you like the girl, why not marry her and face it out?”
Ashton gave a savage little laugh.
“It’s all very fine for you to say that money isn’t everything––that’s only because you’ve got it, and are never likely to be without it. You don’t know what it feels like to be up to your eyes in debt and not knowing where to turn for a fiver. Bah! what’s the good of talking?” He let down the window with a run, turning his face to the keen night air.