“What are you thinking about?” June asked once abruptly. “You look so sad, don’t look sad, my dear! there’s lots of happy days to come yet––happier days than you’ve ever had.”
Esther was only half listening. It was too late for Micky to come now was the thought in her mind. Supposing he never came again?
She cried herself to sleep that night. When she woke it was late in the morning, and June had had her breakfast and gone out.
She came in while Esther was dressing. She looked very pleased and alert.
“Business, my child!” she said enthusiastically. “Such a duck of an American! and Micky’s introduction! Mr. George P. Rochester!––isn’t it a lovely name? He’s going to establish me firmly in little old New York, as he calls it, and make my fortune. I’m going out to lunch with him at one o’clock, and you’re coming too!––Oh, yes you are!” as Esther shook her head. “I’ve told him all about you already.” Esther laughed.
“You must have got on very fast,” she said. “And anyway I’m not going to play odd-man-out.”
June made a little grimace.
“I telephoned Micky and asked him to come and make a fourth,” she admitted.
Esther flushed. She looked up eagerly: