“I’m not expecting to have a good time,” he answered.
The train was slowly moving; June ran a few steps to keep up with it. Micky blurted out his question at last––
“Miss Shepstone ... Esther ... is she all right, June?”
June smiled.
“Oh, she’s first rate,” she said airily. “She’s gone away for a holiday.... Good-bye.” She fell back laughing and waving her hand.
Micky kept his head out of the window till a cloud of smoke from the engine blown backwards shut out all sight of her, then he drew in, dragging the window up with a slam.
Gone away for a holiday, had she?––well––it was nothing to him. He turned round to go back to his seat in the corner then stopping dead, staring as if he had seen a ghost; for Esther was sitting there just behind him, looking up at him with scared eyes.
For a moment Micky did not move; he was like a man turned to stone. Then the blood rushed to his face in a crimson tide; he broke out into stammering speech––
“You ... you ... what ... what ... I thought....” He swayed forward a little and caught her hands. “You are real––I thought ... I thought I was just imagining it all; I thought.... Oh, wait a moment....” He sat down and leaned his head in his hands.
He felt sure that he must be mad or dreaming––the world had turned upside down and pitched his thoughts into chaos; he was sure that when next he looked Esther would no longer be there––he dreaded having to raise his eyes.