Twice she turned and looked at Esther’s huddled figure, then she went back, laid a hand on her arm and said in an odd, gentle voice that was strangely unlike her own brisk tones:
“And do you mean to say that you don’t just think him the finest man in all the world?”
Esther sat up with sudden passion.
“I didn’t think of him at all––it was like having a knife turned in my heart when I knew,” she said wildly. “Oh, you can’t understand if you’ve never cared for anybody what it feels like to know that you’ve been made a fool of. When he told me I felt that I hated him––there didn’t seem anything fine or good in what he had done; I only knew that I’d been played with, made fun of....” She stopped, sobbing desperately, but for once June attempted no consolation. She was looking at Micky’s portrait on the shelf, and there was a wonderful tenderness in her queer eyes.
“Who told you?” she asked then. “Who told you that it was Micky?”
“He did––he only told me when he knew why I was going to Paris––he told me in the train. It’s been from Mr. Mellowes all along––the money I’ve had every week––my clothes––this coat ... he’s been paying for my food, and for me to live here....” She raised 265 her eyes to June’s face. “Did you know?” she asked shakily. “He said you didn’t, but somehow....”
June rounded on her angrily.
“If Micky said that I didn’t, that ought to be good enough,” she said curtly. “And of course, I didn’t know––if I had, I should have told him that he was a fool to waste his time and money on a girl who thought nothing of him,” she added flatly. Her voice changed all at once. “Oh, isn’t he just splendid!” she said emotionally. “I don’t understand it in the very least, why he has done it, or how he managed it, or anything, but I think it’s the finest thing in all the world–––” Esther turned away.
“I knew him before we met here––he wanted to tell you, but I asked him not to–––” She stopped and dragged on again.
“I met him on New Year’s Eve––I was so miserable––there seemed nothing to live for, and he was kind and so ... so ... I told him a little of what was wrong, and I suppose he guessed the rest.”