"You're not to let Mr. Harley fall in love with you, mind," June said severely as they went upstairs after dinner. "He's much too nice to be made unhappy--even by you," she added affectionately.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" she cried. "I never see him or speak to him, except at meal times."
"I mean what I say," June insisted. "Didn't you see how he looked at you when you took his violets?"
"Why, what perfect nonsense!" she protested.
"Onlookers see most of the game," she declared. "Aren't you coming up to my room? Our room, I mean."
"I've got to go out--I had an appointment at half-past two, but I'll love to come to tea with you," she added, seeing the disappointment in June's face.
"Very well, then, four o'clock. But who is the appointment with? You won't need to find a berth now. You're a lady of leisure."
"But I shall try all the same. I don't mean to be lazy just because he's so good to me. I shall save all I can. I went to an agency yesterday----"
"They'll rob you," June protested. "They always do. I know what agents are," she added darkly.
But if she had hoped great things from her call that afternoon she was disappointed. The thin, aristocratic-looking person who owned the "Bureau," as it was called, looked at her with coldly critical eyes, and said that she had no vacancies likely to suit her.
"But you told me to call," Esther protested.
"Certainly; there might have been something," was all the answer she received. "Call again to-morrow, if you please."
Esther went out dispiritedly. There were so many girls of her own class and age in the bare waiting-room; she felt quite sure that they would all get berths before she had a chance.
She felt glad that she had June Mason to go back to. June was always sympathetic. She went straight upstairs to the sitting-room with the mauve cushions.
June opened the door before she had time to knock.
"I thought it was you. I heard your step. What's the matter? You sounded dispirited as you came upstairs."
"I believe you must have second sight, or whatever they call it. But you're right this time; I am rather down on my luck. They haven't anything at the agency to suit me. I----" She stopped, looking past June into the cosy room to where a man had just risen from a chair by the fire--a tall man--who looked across at her with eyes that were half-abashed, half-defiant. Micky Mellowes.