“Of course not. I was only thinking.... Do you––do your friends ever come here to see you?”
She was thinking of Micky Mellowes, and wondering if he ever came to the boarding-house, and if so, why he had not told her that he knew somebody living here. After all, if he had deceived her in one instance he would do so in many others––she felt a curious sense of hurt pride; why had he gone out of his way to tell her he was a poor man, when all the time–––?
“To tell you the truth,” June said frankly, “none of my friends know where I am living. Call it false pride if you like, but there you are. I have all my letters, except business ones, sent to my club––I belong to an unpretentious club––I’ll take you there some day––and not even Micky knows that I live here. You see, when I flew in the face of providence, otherwise my noble family, 58 they stopped my allowance, so as I’m entirely self-supporting, I had to be careful and live inexpensively, so I came here. And I’m very comfortable. If I want to meet any of my friends we meet out somewhere. I think it’s better; it leaves me quite free....”
They were back in her room again now, and Charlie had looked up with one eye from his mauve cushion, and purred, by way of a greeting.
June lit a cigarette and rushed about in pursuit of the coffee-pot. All her movements were quick. She seemed to breathe life and energy.
Esther walked over to the fireplace, and found herself looking at Micky’s photograph.
After all, he was just like all the other men she had ever known; apparently none of them could be simple and sincere; she supposed it had been his way of condescending to her, to pretend that he was poor and in similar circumstances to herself; perhaps he had guessed that she would never have allowed him to pay for her supper or tea, or have talked to her as he had done, if she had known him to be a rich man.
She need never see him again, that was one thing; her heart hardened as she met the frankness of his pictured eyes; he was not as honest as he looked.
She had mistaken condescension for kindness. She bit her lip with mortification as she recalled the confidence she had made to him only that afternoon. He was probably laughing at it now, and no doubt would repeat all she had said to his friends as a good joke.
She went to her own room as soon as she had had the coffee. She made the excuse that she was tired, but when she went upstairs she sat down on the side of the bed and made no effort to undress. A sort of shadow seemed to have fallen on her spirits. She felt mortified that Micky should so deliberately have lied to her; her cheeks burned as she thought of the despair she had been in last night when she met him. She hoped she would never see him again.