They went along the platform, followed by a porter with Ashton’s baggage. Micky looked at it resentfully; 22 Ashton was evidently prepared to enjoy himself; this was no rush after mere solitude and forgetfulness.
He stood stiffly at the carriage door while Ashton stowed his smaller traps on the rack. Presently he came to the window.
“You’ll do the best you can, won’t you, old man?” There was a real anxiety in his eyes, but Micky was not looking at him; he answered stiffly––
“Yes, I’ll do what I can.”
“She’ll soon get another job,” Ashton went on, with forced confidence. “I’m sorry she left Eldred’s, now it’s come to this, but how was I to know?” he appealed to Micky, but he might as well have appealed to a brick wall for all response he got.
“And when I come back–––” he said again. “Tell her that when I come back many things may be all right again ... tell her that, will you?”
“I’ll tell her,” said Micky stolidly.
The guard was blowing his whistle now, doors were being shut.
Micky roused himself and looked at his friend.
“Are you––er––are you going to write to her?” he asked constrainedly.