se you are trying to make
out now that he----"

"Heaven bless the child!" June cried. "I'm not trying to make out
anything! I'm struck all of a heap like! as Lydia says. So he's the
phantom lover, is he?... Well--I can't find any words to suit the
case."

"He's not a phantom lover," Esther protested. "He's a real lover, a
very real lover."

June stopped and took her hand.

"I'm not going to let you quarrel with me over him, no matter how
badly you want to," she said. "No man is worth two friends having a
row over. I'm quite prepared to take him to my arms and love him if
you do.... Oh, Esther, don't look like that!"

There were tears in Esther's eyes, and her lips were trembling.
"You're making fun of me," she protested. "It's unkind of you."

June turned away; she wondered if perhaps, after all, she and every
one else had thoroughly misunderstood Raymond, and if this girl's warm
championing of him was deserved.

"He's not nearly good enough for her," she was telling herself
indignantly. "She'll never really be happy with him."

"I hope you won't tell Mr. Mellowes, or any one else," Esther was
saying defiantly. "I don't want my affairs talked over by every one."

"I shall not tell any one," June said quietly.

She stood looking down into the fire, and her face was troubled.

Presently she walked to Esther, and, stooping, kissed her.

"I'm awfully glad I know," she said. "It makes our friendship seem so
much more real."

Esther smiled faintly.

But June was ill at ease. She felt instinctively that things were not
all right.

"It isn't the man himself," she told herself obstinately. "It's some
foolish, mistaken ideal of him that she has created."

She wondered what he really was doing in Paris. Micky would know--he
and Micky had been such great friends. There would be no harm in
speaking of him to Micky, at least that would not be betraying any
secret or confidence.

She rang Micky up the following morning. She made the excuse that she
wanted to see him on business. She took him to lunch at her club.

"You don't look well," was her greeting. "What's the matter, Micky?"

Micky frowned. If there was one thing he hated it was for any one to
remark on his appearance. He answered brusquely that he had never been
better in his life.

"By the way, I was going to write when you rang up," he said. "I've
got some tickets for a first night to-morrow. Would you care to come
along and--and bring Miss Shepsto