CHAPTER XXXV
It was late that night when Micky turned up at the Delands’. He had taken extravagant pains with his toilet, lingering over it as long as possible. Ever since the arrival of that parcel from Esther, he had been trying to make up his mind to take the irrevocable step, and ask Marie Deland to be his wife. He was miserably sure that she would accept him, miserably sure that he was already forgiven for the past.
He kept on persuading himself that it was the one and only thing left to him to do. He tried to believe that once the affair was settled, he would find some sort of happiness. After all, what did it matter whom he married if it could not be Esther?
He looked pale but determined when he walked into the Delands’ drawing-room and found Marie there alone. She turned to greet him with a little eager movement that was somehow comforting.
Here, at any rate, was some one who really cared for him and was glad to see him. He took the hand she held out and, bending, kissed it.
She caught her breath on a little sound that was almost a sob, but she checked it instantly and tried to laugh.
“This is almost like old times,” she said.
“Quite like old times,” Micky answered recklessly. “We’ve just turned the pages back again and gone on where we left off, that’s all.”