The Phantom Lover Part 11

"Doesn't he look sweet?" she demanded. "And a black cat is lucky too, you know, so that's a comfort."

She went back to the teapot, made the tea, and poured out a cup for Esther.

"Is that chair comfy?--yes, lean back! What are you looking at? Oh, my photographs! Yes. I have got a lot, haven't I? Lydia dusts them for me! Lydia's a treasure! You'll love her. When I get married she's going to leave here and come with me----"

Esther looked interested.

"Are you going to be married?" she asked.

Miss Mason laughed.

"Am I? No, I'm not. I'm too fond of my independence. Not that I don't like men. I do like them, and I've got some awfully good pals amongst them, too. Look!"

She turned with one of her rapid movements, caught up a photograph from the shelf and handed it to Esther.

"There! that's one of the nicest men I ever met in my life," she said enthusiastically. "Don't you think he's got a ripping face?"

Esther took the portrait laughingly--she thought June Mason one of the most amusing people she had ever met--then she caught her breath on a little smothered exclamation as she found herself looking straight into the pictured eyes of Micky Mellowes.

June Mason was too occupied with a fresh cigarette to notice the blank look that filled Esther's eyes.

She sat there in the big chair, staring at Micky's portrait with a sense of foreboding. Surely it was something bigger than just chance that had introduced him into her life for the second time.

"He's one of the best," June Mason went on. She dragged forward another chair and plumped down into it comfortably.

"Don't you admire him?" She opened her eyes wide, looking across at Esther.

"Yes, oh yes! I think he's quite nice," Esther said stiltedly. "But not a bit good-looking, do you think?" she asked, with a sort of hesitation.

Miss Mason took the portrait from her and held it at arm's length.

"Um!" she said critically. "Perhaps he isn't, but I like him so much, you see, that I'm not a fair judge. He's been a good friend to me, at all events."

She got up, replaced the frame on the shelf, and plumped back once more amongst her mauve cus.h.i.+ons.

"My people wanted me to marry him at one time," she went on airily. "I might have done so only I liked him too well. He didn't care for me, except as a friend, and it seemed a shame to spoil it, so I put my foot down."

"You mean that you refused him?"

Esther was interested; she was remembering how Micky had told her that he had never really cared for any woman in all his life.

"He never asked me, my dear," Miss Mason answered candidly. "I let him see that it wouldn't be any good if he did, and I know he was frightfully relieved. We were never so nearly in love with one another as we were when we both knew that we didn't mean to get married." She chuckled reminiscently. "It finished me with my people, though," she added, "so I cleared out and came here."

"And--Micky?" Esther asked. "I--I mean Mr. Mellowes...."

Miss Mason looked faintly surprised.

"How did you know his name?" she asked. "Did I tell you? I suppose I did. Oh, he's all right; he's the kind of man who always will be all right. He's got another girl on the tapis now. I don't know if it will come to anything, though. Anyway, she's not good enough for him."

"You seem very fond of him," Esther said.

"I am. He's a dear! I should love to see him happily married to a girl with a heart of gold like his own. I think I know him better than most people, and his little corner of the world would be amazed if they knew the amount of good Micky manages to do."

She had flushed up with her own enthusiasm. Her curious eyes (Esther could not decide if they were grey, blue, or green, or a mixture of all three) were very bright and expressive.

"I've heard lots of rotten things said about him," she went on, "and I know that none of them are really deserved--at least most of them are not. He isn't a saint--but what man is, I should like to know? But Micky's the sort who would give his life for a friend or any one little and weak. Do you know"--she flung away the half-smoked cigarette and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees--"last winter, down in the country, I saw Micky go into a dirty pond in evening dress to rescue a drowning cat. What do you think of that?"

"A--a--cat!" said Esther faintly. She looked at Charlie, and remembered how Micky had paid for milk for him the night of their strange meeting.

"A miserable drowning cat!" Miss Mason went on with tragic emphasis.

"He heard it mewing from the road, and he went in after it without stopping to think. Now, I call a man a hero who will do a thing like that when he is on his way to a dance he is very keen about, don't you?"

"Yes," said Esther. Her heart warmed towards Mellowes. Kind as he had been to her, she had not been quite sure of him; it made her feel happier to hear him so warmly championed.

"You'll be sick to death of my chatter," June Mason broke out with sudden change of voice. She helped herself to a third cigarette. "I hope you don't mind smoke," she apologised. "I'm always at it; I think I smoke dozens a day----"

"Or throw them away half smoked," Esther thought amusedly. "I don't mind at all," she answered.

"You haven't told me a thing about yourself," Miss Mason reminded her reproachfully. "And it's not fair that I should do all the talking. I know your name, and that's about all. Have you got any people? Where do you come from?"

Esther flushed a little.

"There isn't much to tell you. I haven't any people. I was born in India, and my mother died there. I don't know anything about my father. I was sent home to an aunt, and she looked after me till about three years ago, when she died. I came to London then, and they took me on at Eldred's--do you know Eldred's?"

"Do I not?" said Miss Mason fervently. "Scrumptious things they make; but what prices! I can't afford them very often, but I go in there a good deal. I know the manager, and he's going to do some business for me--at least I hope he is. If I can get my stuff into his place it will be a splendid thing. All London shops there, you know; all London with any money, that is!"

Esther looked mystified.

"Your stuff!" she echoed. "What do you mean?"

June Mason laughed merrily. She had a very infectious laugh and a trick of covering her face with her hands while she was laughing.

"I forgot that you didn't know!" she said. "I seem to know you so well, I can't remember that we never saw one another before to-day. My dear, I make face cream. Wait a moment."

She sprang up and disappeared behind a mauve curtain into an adjoining room. Esther heard her moving about, opening and shutting boxes and singing a s.n.a.t.c.h of song all the time. Presently she came back with a tray crowded with little pots and phials of all sizes and descriptions. She plumped down on her knees beside Esther's chair.

"There you are!" she said lightly, though there was an odd dash of pride in her voice. "Face cream, night and day cream, eyelash tonic, and all the rest of it! Of course, I'm only just starting--I'm not like those people who advertise in all the papers and charge about a guinea for a s.h.i.+lling jar; but my stuff is as good as theirs any day, and better, because it's pure. Look!" She took a lid off a little white pot with a mauve label and held it to Esther.

"Isn't that a glorious perfume?" she demanded. She sniffed it herself with relish. "And it's all my invention, and I'm as proud of it as a cat would be of nine tails. When I've got things a little more s.h.i.+p-shape, Micky's going to put it on the market for me. It wants a man behind all these sort of things you know. I can do all the donkey work, but I've got no head for business. I never know the difference between a loss and a profit. It was partly over this that I quarrelled with my people--they said it was low-down to make face cream and sell it--they're awful sn.o.bs! So I just cleared off and changed my surname and came here. I'm quite happy, and if I haven't got as much money as I had, I don't mind--I've got my liberty, and that's worth every thing."

"I think you're just wonderful," Esther said. She picked up a lid from one of the little pots and looked at the mauve and white label.

"June Mason's natural beautifier...."

She looked at the glowing face opposite to her.

"Do you use it for your own skin?" she asked shyly.