There was a sharp silence.

“I thought you liked the girl,” said Micky bluntly.

The other man winced.

“So I did––so I do.... It’s a rotten shame. If you’d ever seen her ... you never have, have you?”

“No.”

“Neither has the mater.... Women are all the same; because the girl has to work for her living they think she isn’t fit for me to marry.... It’s all a lot of rot.... However––beggars can’t be choosers––and so I’m off to-night.”

16

Micky looked at him keenly.

“You mean that you’re going without a word to the girl?”

“What can I do?––I went and saw her this morning––we had a rotten scene. I meant to tell her it was all up, but somehow I couldn’t; I’m too dashed fond of her, and that’s the truth. I can’t bear to see her cry––it makes me feel such a cur....”

He waited a moment, but Micky made no comment.

“So the only thing is to clear out,” Ashton went on jerkily. “I can’t afford to quarrel with the mater, you know that.... Perhaps some day....” He stopped. “After all, she can’t live for ever,” he added brutally.

Micky said nothing.

“So I’m off to-night,” Ashton went on with an effort. “I wanted to see you––I knew I could trust you....” He fumbled in a pocket. “There’s a letter here.... I’ve written––I couldn’t see her again. I know I’m a coward, but ... well, there it is!”

He threw the letter down on the table.

“Will you go and see her, old chap, and give her that?” he asked with an effort. “Tell her I––oh, tell her what you like,” he went on fiercely. “Tell her that if I could afford it....”

He stopped again, and this time the silence was unbroken for some minutes.

Then he roused himself and picked up his coat. “Well, I must be getting along. I left my baggage at the station.”

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