"You won't be able to; she'll get over there and have to bear it all alone.... Oh, Micky, I almost hate you when I think what we've done...."
Micky went out of the room; he went down to the road and mechanically started up the car; he was getting into his seat when June followed and called to him--
"You haven't got your coat or cap, Micky."
He came back; he hoisted himself into his coat, and turned away again; June caught his hand.
"I know; it's all right; but don't keep me, there's a dear."
"You'll bring her back safely, Micky--promise."
"... I can't live without him any longer...."
In spite of everything, that was how she still felt about the brute.
When he got to the station he found there was no train to town for a couple of hours; he asked a sleepy porter an agitated question.
"Did you see a young lady go by the twelve-twenty--one of the young ladies staying with Miss Dearling. Oh, for heaven's sake hurry up and answer, man!"
The man scratched an unshaven chin with irritating consideration.
"Yes, I seen her," he said at last. "She came in running--caught the train to London--she...."
But Micky had gone; he would have to drive to town, he decided. If Esther had got to know the truth, better hear it from him than from that brute.
He drove off at breakneck speed. It seemed miles and miles to London; no matter how much of the winding road he covered, it unfolded again before his eyes, and mercilessly again.
He went straight to Charing Cross; he left the car in the yard and dashed in to inquire about trains; he searched a time-table; 12.59--3 o'clock--4.5 ... he looked up at the clock--three minutes past four now. Micky dashed across the big hall to a gate where a signboard said "Dover Express"; he had no ticket; he pushed by the protesting inspector; the guard was waving his flag; some one grabbed at Micky and missed as he flung himself breathless and panting into the last coach of the moving train.
Micky sat for a few moments breathless and exhausted before he pulled himself together, and taking off his hat wiped his hot forehead.
The train was gathering speed; he let down the window with a run and looked out; the station was out of sight altogether; they were crossing the bridge under which the silent Thames flowed sluggishly.