Esther had covered her face with her hands.
“I’m not crying,” she said in a stifled voice. “But I’m so ashamed. I don’t know what you must think of me––it’s so––so humiliating.”
“It’s nothing of the kind,” June declared. “The only mistake you’ve made is to put your money on the wrong man, if you’ll excuse the expression. Raymond Ashton was always an outsider.... There! I won’t say another word. You’ve come home, and that’s all that matters.”
It was only when they were safely up in the room with the mauve cushions that she flung her hat down on the sofa and drew a long breath.
“Well, I never thought we should be here together again,” she said tragically. “It seemed like the end of everything when I found your note on the pincushion. I don’t know what I should have done if it hadn’t been for Micky.”
“I don’t know what I should have done either,” Esther said. She met June’s eyes and flushed crimson. “I’ve been horrid about him, I know,” she added bravely. “And now I’m sorry.”
June said “Humph.” She sat for a moment staring at the floor, then she got up and searched for the inevitable cigarettes.
“You ought to go to bed,” she said in her most matter-of-fact tone. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“Nowhere––at least––we were in the train all night. I did sleep a little, but....”