Sometimes Mr. George P. Rochester came to help--at least he called it "help"--but he did very little actual work, as he was always too busy looking at June and talking to her.
"Has he suggested the partnership yet?" Esther asked one night.
"Don't be absurd," she answered, and something in her voice woke a little note of fear in Esther's heart.
Was she to lose June too? Was there to be nothing left to her in all the world? Her hands shook as she went on mechanically filling the row of little mauve pots.
"Esther," said June suddenly, "how long is it since you saw Micky?"
There was a little pause, then Esther said constrainedly. "I've never seen him since--since we came back from Paris."
"Because I haven't seen him myself for nearly a week," she said slowly. "And I hear--I hear that he's running round with that Deland girl again."
She did not dare to look up as she spoke, and she went on quickly, "Of course it may only be gossip--but George--Mr. Rochester----" she hurriedly corrected herself, "tells me that Micky took him to their house to dinner last night."
Silence. June filled pots at random, wildly, then Esther spoke.
"I've done eight dozen," she said. "Do you think that is enough to go on with?"
June raised her eyes guiltily, then suddenly she pushed the laden tray from her and ran round to Esther.
"Oh," she said impulsively, "if only--only you could have made yourself care for him."
She put her arms round the younger girl's unresponsive figure.
"I want you to be happy too, so badly," she went on earnestly. "I didn't mean to tell you yet, but I must somehow. George--Mr. Rochester----" she broke off, laughing and crying together.
"The man's a perfect disgrace," she protested, "I told him so, too! I've only known him three weeks, and--and----" she raised tear-drowned eyes to Esther's face. "What can you do when a man that size kisses you?" she demanded.
"Why, do what you did," she said. "Kiss him in return."
June wiped her eyes and laughed, and shed more tears.
"I never meant to marry any one," she said angrily. "But the dreadful creature seems to want me so desperately badly. I'm really utterly miserable, only----"
"So I am! At least!"--June looked up and suddenly laughed. "I'm not," she said. "I'm a wicked liar! but oh, such a gloriously happy, wicked liar!"