letter he had made copious reference to his straitened
circumstances. Any debasing shifts and mean discomforts to which her
poverty might expose her she looked on as a yet further sacrifice upon
the altar of the loved one, faith in whom had become the cardinal
feature of her life. The terms "strictly moderate" advertised by Nurse
G. decided her. She opened the iron gate and walked to the door.
Directly she knocked, she heard two or three windows thrown up in
neighbouring houses, from which the bodies of unkempt women projected,
to cast interested glances in Mavis's direction. As she waited, she
could hear the faint puling of a baby within the house. Next, she was
conscious that a lath of a Venetian blind was pulled aside and that
someone was spying upon her from the aperture. She waited further, the
while two of the curious women who leaned from the windows were loudly
deciding the date on which Mavis's baby would be born. Then, the door
of No. 9 was suspiciously opened about six inches. Mavis found herself
eagerly scanned by a fraction of a woman's face. The next moment, the
woman, who had caught sight of Mavis's appearance, which was now very
indicative of her condition, threw the door wide open and called
cheerily:

"Come in, my dear; come in."

"I want Nurse G.," said Mavis.

"That's me: G--Gowler. Come inside."

"But--" hesitated Mavis, as she glanced at the repulsive face of the
woman.

"Do either one thing or the other: come right in or keep out. The
neighbours do that talk."

Mavis walked into the passage, at which the woman sharply closed the
door. The puling of the baby was distinctly louder.

"We'll 'ave to talk 'ere," continued the woman, with some weakening of
her previous cordiality, "we're that full up: two in a room an' all
expectin'. But then it never rains but it pours, as you might say."

Mavis resisted an impulse to fly from the house. The more she saw of
Mrs Gowler (the woman wore a wedding ring), the less she liked her. To
begin with, her appearance had given Mavis much of a shock. Her alert
fancy had conjured up a vision of a kindly, motherly woman, with soft
eyes and voice, whose mere presence would have spoken of the sympathy
and tenderness for which the lonely heart of Mavis ached. Nurse Gowler
was short, fat, and puffy, with her head sunk right into her shoulders.
Her pasty face, with its tiny eyes, contained a mouth of which the
upper lip was insufficient to cover her teeth when he