crossed his mind; she was a girl whom––he began to write rapidly. “My darling little girl–––” Micky was naturally rather eloquent with his pen, though he had never before tried it in this especial direction. 28 “This is the most difficult letter I have ever had to write in all my life; first, because I love you so much; and, secondly, because I am afraid it is going to hurt you nearly as much as it hurts me. Dear, as it will be some time before I see you again, and because I cannot explain everything to you, I am going to ask you to trust me till we meet again. I am leaving England to-night....” Micky paused and ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly before he struggled on once more: “I shall be thinking of you every minute till we meet again, and of the happy times we have had together. I will write to you whenever I can....” The pen paused, and Micky groaned, recalling that Ashton had said he should not write at all. “It’ll have to do, anyway,” he muttered, and again the pen flew: “I’m not much of a hand at writing letters, as you know, but you must try and read between the lines, and guess at all I would say were we together ... All I will say to you when we meet again.” That last sentence was rather neat, Micky thought with pride, then a wave of compunction swept through his heart as he remembered the tragedy behind it all, and he finished the page soberly enough: “Ever yours, Raymond Ashton.” “Damn him!” said Micky under his breath, as he blotted the signature; then he took two ten-pound notes from a drawer in his desk, and, enclosing them in the envelope, sealed and stamped it. It was half-past one, but Micky climbed into his coat again. He locked Ashton’s letter into his desk, and, taking the one he had written, went quietly down to the street. The world was sleeping and deserted, and Micky’s footsteps echoed hollowly along the pavement. “You’re a fool, you know!” he told himself, with a sort of humour. “You’re a bally fool, my boy! It won’t end here, you see if it does.” But he went on to the pillar-box at the street corner. 29
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