She half turned, leaning across the table, and her eyes were like fire.
“He was there––who was there?” she asked shrilly.
“Ashton––Raymond Ashton,” Micky answered.
There was a tragic silence, then Esther rose to her feet; she stood looking dazedly round her in a helpless sort of way.
Micky called for the bill––without waiting for his change he followed Esther out into the darkness. She offered no resistance when he drew her hand through his arm. He did not know what on earth to do with her; if he took her to an hotel it would mean leaving her, and she would probably go away in the night. They went back to the station, and Micky found a waiting-room with a roaring fire; he dragged one of the uncomfortable wooden benches close to it and made Esther sit down; he closed the door and came back to her.
There was so much he wanted to say, and for the life of him he did not know how to begin. She sat there so silently; she seemed to have forgotten his presence altogether.
Micky looked at her, and suddenly he broke out––
“Esther, speak to me––say something––for heaven’s sake–––”
She moved in a curiously heavy sort of way, as if it were an effort; she raised her eyes to his agitated face.