“You’re not going to be a little prude?” he said in a whisper. “I can give you the time of your life if you’ll let me. I’ve plenty of money now–––”
“Your wife’s money,” said Esther with stiff lips.
He looked annoyed.
“If you like to put it that way––but she doesn’t mind––she’s too fond of me to mind how much I spend ... Lallie–––” She hated to hear that name, because once she had loved it.
She closed her eyes for a moment with a little sick shudder.
“Are you faint?” he asked anxiously. “I suppose it is warm in here. Take your coat off! Jove! that’s a fine coat–––” He ran an appreciative hand down the 251 soft fur sleeve; a sudden suspicion crept into his eyes. “Who gave you that?” he asked sharply. “Not Mellowes–––?”
“No––at least....” She could not go on. Micky had given it to her, she knew, but she would have bitten her tongue through rather than have told this man.
It had been Micky all the time––Micky....
She thrust the thought of him from her; she did not want to think of him now. There would be plenty of time later on; plenty of time when she had shaken off the last rag of the past.
“It cost a pretty penny, whoever bought it,” he said sulkily. “What else has he given you? If you can take presents from him you can’t refuse to let me see you sometimes, and after all––you did love me once.... Esther, do you remember the way you cried that last day?”