She moved away to the door. The cold air beating on her face gave her a grip of herself again. She stood for a moment looking down the deserted street, her hands clenched.
It was only for a little while, just until they got back to Enmore, that she had got to keep up appearances, and then––then....
A sudden wave of tragedy swept through her soul; oh, it could not be true! It was some other man of whom they had been speaking, some other Raymond!
She heard Micky laughing with the landlady as he paid for the coffee and buns, and she felt that she hated him for not guessing how she suffered. She walked down to where the little car stood waiting. If only he would be quick and take her back; she could do nothing till 215 she got back to Enmore, and each moment was so precious.
It seemed an eternity until Micky joined her. He avoided looking at her, though he bent and wrapped the rug carefully over her knees before he took his seat.
The other car with its two occupants had vanished down the road some minutes since; only a small cloud of grey dust on the horizon showed which way they had gone.
Micky drove back faster than he had come. Once or twice he looked down at Esther with an anxious pucker between his eyes.
What had happened in those few minutes to make this sudden change? he wondered.
She had been happy and smiling enough this morning; now all that he could see of her face, half hidden in the big upstand collar of the coat he had given her, were two piteous blue eyes staring steadily ahead of her down the road.
They had gone some miles almost silently when he felt that he could bear it no longer. He stopped the car almost savagely and turned in his seat.