There was a little pause, then Esther said constrainedly. “I’ve never seen him since––since we came back from Paris.”
She waited a moment.
“Why?” she asked with an effort.
June kept her eyes bent on her work.
“Because I haven’t seen him myself for nearly a week,” she said slowly. “And I hear––I hear that he’s running round with that Deland girl again.”
She did not dare to look up as she spoke, and she went on quickly, “Of course it may only be gossip––but George––Mr. Rochester–––” she hurriedly corrected herself, “tells me that Micky took him to their house to dinner last night.”
Silence. June filled pots at random, wildly, then Esther spoke.
“I’ve done eight dozen,” she said. “Do you think that is enough to go on with?”
June raised her eyes guiltily, then suddenly she pushed the laden tray from her and ran round to Esther.
“Oh,” she said impulsively, “if only––only you could have made yourself care for him.”