But in this instance, at least, a verbal answer was not necessary.
June kissed her rapturously.
“Oh, you darling,” she said. She blew out the candle, and sped down to her own room again like a ghost in the moonlight.
“Was there anything else you was wanting, sir?” Driver inquired stolidly. He stood on the platform looking in at the first-class compartment where Micky sat alone in durance vile, waiting for the train to start.
He frowned, and pulled his soft hat further down over his eyes as he answered––
“No, nothing.... I’ll see you at Dover.”
There were many people on the platform; in the next carriage a pretty girl was seeing a man off––looking up at him as he stood on the footboard with eyes that told their story eloquently.
Micky looked at her enviously. He would have given his right hand if there had been some one there to see him off with just that expression in her eyes––the right some one, of course. He turned away from the window with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.
He had nothing in the world but his confounded money, and a lot of good that was to him! It could not buy happiness.