object to Jill's presence, she closed with the offer. At Mrs
Scatchard's invitation, she spent the evening in the sitting-room
downstairs, where she was introduced to Mr Scatchard. If, as had been
alleged, Mr Scatchard was a pillar of the throne, that august
institution was in a parlous condition. He was a red-headed, red-eyed,
clean-shaven man, in appearance not unlike an elderly cock; his blotchy
face, thick utterance, and the smell of his breath, all told Mavis that
he was addicted to drink. Mavis wondered how this fuddled man, whose
wife let lodgings in a shabby corner of Shepherd's Bush, could be
remotely associated with Government, till it leaked out that he had
been for many years, and still was, one of the King's State trumpeters.

Mavis was grateful to the Scatchards for their humble hospitality, if
only because it prevented her mind from dwelling on her extremity. She
was so tired with all she had gone through, that, directly she got to
bed, she fell asleep, to awake about five with a mind possessed by
fears for the future. Try as she could, faith in her lover refused to
supply the relief necessary to allow her further sleep.

About seven, kindly Mrs Scatchard brought her up some tea, her excuse
for this attention being that "blood" could not be expected to get up
without a cup of this stimulant. Mrs Scatchard, like most stout women,
was of a nervous, kindly, ingenuous disposition. It hurt Mavis
considerably to tell her the story she had concocted, of a husband in
straitened circumstances in America, who was struggling to prepare a
home for her. Mrs Scatchard was herself a bereaved mother. Much moved
by her recollections, she gave Mavis needed and pertinent advice with
reference to her condition.

"There is kindness in the world," thought Mavis, when she was alone.

After breakfast, that was supplied at a previously arranged charge of
fourpence, Mavis, fearing the company of her thoughts, betook herself
to Miss Nippett in the Blomfield Road.

She found her elderly friend in bed, a queer, hapless figure in her
pink flannel nightgown.

"I haven't heard anything," said Miss Nippett, as soon as she caught
sight of Mavis.

"Of what?"

"What luck Mr Poulter's had at the dancing competition! Haven't you
come about that?"

"I came to see how you were."

"Don't you worry about me. I shall be right again soon; reely I shall."

Mavis tried to discover if Miss Nippett were properly looked after, but
without