e than he wanted his own.

He took the letter from his pocket and looked at the address on the
envelope. "Raymond Ashton, Esq...."

He hated the sight of that name--some day Esther would hate it too,
when she knew how he had deceived her.

It was a great risk--but ...

"I'll chance it," said Mickey under his breath, and drew out the
letter again.

"MY DARLING BOY,--You can never know how glad and happy I was to
get your letter to-night and to know that I can really write to
you at last. I have been so miserable during these weeks in spite
of all your goodness--and you have been good. It makes me feel
mean and ungrateful now when I remember how horrid I often was to
you before you went away. When you come back I will make it all up
to you, and show you how nice I really can be, because I do love
you--I have never loved any one but you. Thank you so much for the
money you have sent me--I was very much down on my luck when it
came. They haven't a vacancy for me just now at Eldred's, or else
they did not want me back, and I am going to try and find another
berth. I am living in a new boarding-house, as you will see; it's
ever so much nicer than the Brixton Road, and I shall be able to
stay on now you are so generously sending me money. I have made a
nice friend here, too, a girl named June Mason--she tells me that
she knows your mother, and you, too!--I did not let her know how
well I knew you, dear, as I thought perhaps you would rather I
said nothing about it. She has a man friend who sometimes comes to
see her--a Mr. Mellowes--she thinks the world of him, but I think
he is detestable...."

Mickey caught his breath hard. After a moment he went on reading:

"June tells me he is very rich, and quite a 'somebody,' but I
cannot see anything out of the ordinary about him, and he isn't a
bit good looking. He knows you, too--but he does not say much
about you. Dearest, it seems such a long time since I saw you--and
I cannot help wondering if you really miss me and want me as much
as I want you.... Sometimes I would give just anything to lay my
head on your shoulder and say how much I love you. I'm very
lonely, really; though June is so kind she isn't any one of my
very own, is she? And now I wonder if you will be very angry with
me if I ask you something? I don't think I should have dared to,
only your last letters have been so dear and kind. Raymond, why