She began to sob; quiet, tearless sobs that seemed to bring no relief with them.
“Raymond Ashton––he told me––here! just now––that you....” She stopped, catching her breath at the change in Micky’s face; it no longer looked tender––his eyes were fierce.
“Ashton! What has he said?” His voice was roughly insistent.
“He told me that you––you were in Paris––a week or two ago––with a girl from Eldred’s.”
“It’s a lie!” The words escaped Micky before he could check them; his first thought was to defend Esther. “It’s an infernal lie!” he said again violently.
It turned him cold to think of all that the brute must have implied.
The tears were frozen on Marie’s cheeks––her hands were clasped together in her lap.
When at last she found her voice it was strained and cracked.
“... that she told him you were there with her....” Her brown eyes searched his face as if they were trying to read his very soul. “If it’s a lie,” she said shrilly, “it’s she who is lying––she told Raymond Ashton that she was there with you.”