“There is only one man who can possibly explain anything to me,” she said then, “and he is not you.”
Micky lost his temper; he was cold and tired and hungry, and at that moment she seemed the most unreasonable of mortals.
“I shall not allow you to see Ashton, if you mean Ashton,” he said roughly. “The man isn’t fit for you to think about. He’s married, you know that ... Esther, for your own sake–––”
She had turned her face away and was looking out into the darkness; she seemed not to be listening.
Micky went on urgently.
“I blame myself. I always meant to tell you before things had gone as far as this. I shall never forgive myself for not having done so. I’ve behaved like a cad, but my only excuse is that I loved you; I wanted to spare you unnecessary pain–––” He was no longer stammering and self-conscious, his voice was firm and steady. “I suppose I was a fool to imagine that I could ever make you care for me; I suppose it was conceit that led me to think I could ever cut out this ... this phantom lover of yours–––” He laughed mirthlessly.
“Esther, let me take you back home; it’s no use seeing Ashton––it only means humiliation and pain for you.”
Her lips moved, but no words came.
“Let me take you home to June,” he went on. “She will tell you that what I say is only the truth. She knows him––she....”