“Um!” she said critically. “Perhaps he isn’t, but I like him so much, you see, that I’m not a fair judge. He’s been a good friend to me, at all events.”
She got up, replaced the frame on the shelf, and plumped back once more amongst her mauve cushions.
“My people wanted me to marry him at one time,” she went on airily. “I might have done so only I liked him too well. He didn’t care for me, except as a friend, and it seemed a shame to spoil it, so I put my foot down.”
“You mean that you refused him?”
Esther was interested; she was remembering how Micky had told her that he had never really cared for any woman in all his life.
“He never asked me, my dear,” Miss Mason answered candidly. “I let him see that it wouldn’t be any good if he did, and I know he was frightfully relieved. We were never so nearly in love with one another as we were when we both knew that we didn’t mean to get married.” She chuckled reminiscently. “It finished me with my people, though,” she added, “so I cleared out and came here.”
“And––Micky?” Esther asked. “I––I mean Mr. Mellowes....”
Miss Mason looked faintly surprised.
“How did you know his name?” she asked. “Did I tell you? I suppose I did. Oh, he’s all right; he’s the 48 kind of man who always will be all right. He’s got another girl on the tapis now. I don’t know if it will come to anything, though. Anyway, she’s not good enough for him.”
“You seem very fond of him,” Esther said.