t good enough for him, anyway. Have you
finished? I'm dying for a cigarette, and we aren't allowed to smoke
here. Come up to my room and I'll make you some coffee; the stuff they
give us here isn't fit to drink."

She pushed back her chair and rose, and Esther followed.

She kept her eyes down as she walked the length of the room; the
colour rose in her cheeks as she realised how every one was staring at
her. The colonel, whom June had declared was not a colonel at all,
rose and held the door open for them to pass out.

June chuckled as they went upstairs.

"You've made an impression, my dear! It isn't often he does that for
any one." She slipped an arm through Esther's. "Why are you frowning
so? Have I said anything to annoy you?"

Esther laughed.

"Of course not. I was only thinking.... Do you--do your friends ever
come here to see you?"

She was thinking of Micky Mellowes, and wondering if he ever came to
the boarding-house, and if so, why he had not told her that he knew
somebody living here. After all, if he had deceived her in one
instance he would do so in many others--she felt a curious sense of
hurt pride; why had he gone out of his way to tell her he was a poor
man, when all the time----?

"To tell you the truth," June said frankly, "none of my friends know
where I am living. Call it false pride if you like, but there you are.
I have all my letters, except business ones, sent to my club--I belong
to an unpretentious club--I'll take you there some day--and not even
Micky knows that I live here. You see, when I flew in the face of
providence, otherwise my noble family, they stopped my allowance, so
as I'm entirely self-supporting, I had to be careful and live
inexpensively, so I came here. And I'm very comfortable. If I want to
meet any of my friends we meet out somewhere. I think it's better; it
leaves me quite free...."

They were back in her room again now, and Charlie had looked up with
one eye from his mauve cushion, and purred, by way of a greeting.

June lit a cigarette and rushed about in pursuit of the coffee-pot.
All her movements were quick. She seemed to breathe life and energy.

Esther walked over to the fireplace, and found herself looking at
Micky's photograph.

After all, he was just like all the other men she had ever known;
apparently none of them could be simple and sincere; she supposed it
had been his way of condescending to her, to pretend that he was poor
and in similar cir