"What's she want to write to him for?" he asked presently.
June swung round, and a second bun almost shared the fate of the first, but she grabbed it back in time.
"What does she want to write to him for?" she echoed with scorn. "My poor child, what does any one want to write to any one for? She's in love with the man, and when you're in love you simply have to write it down--at least, that's what I understand from people with wide experience. Esther's bursting to write and tell the phantom lover how much she loves him and what a wonderful man he is; as a matter of fact she does write to him, and tears the letters up again, and that's no satisfaction. I wish to goodness he'd get run over and done with," she added exasperatedly.
"I don't suppose she wishes it," said Micky.
"That's because she doesn't know what's good for her; he was probably the first man who had ever paid her any attention, and from what she says he's a bit of a swell, and I suppose she was flattered...."
"Rot!" said Micky violently; it made him boil to hear June say things like this. Ashton superior to Esther? It was like the man's confounded impudence to even think such a thing.
"Not such rot," June said wisely. "And that's what all the trouble is about, or my name's not what it is. He has a stuck-up old cat of a mother who won't condescend to know Esther.... What did you say?"
"Nothing," said Micky. He got up and began strolling about the room with his hands in his pockets, and June finished toasting her buns and made the tea.
"I'll just go up and tell Esther," she said. She went out of the room and upstairs.
"Tea," she announced cheerfully, knocking at Esther's door; she turned the handle and went in. Esther was standing by the window looking out into the neglected garden at the back of the house; she turned.
"I'm not really hungry, and if you'd like to have Mr. Mellowes to yourself----" she began.
"My dear," she said then drily, "if I'd wanted to have Mr. Mellowes to myself I should have married him long ago; so don't pretend you're not dying for one of the stale but toasted buns."
She linked her arm in Esther's, and they went downstairs together. Esther did not want to come, but it seemed easier to give way than to make excuses. She took the chair which Micky brought forward; she felt a little nervous and ill at ease. Once, when their eyes met, she found herself colouring sensitively.