porter was trundling it on), but before opening the gate of No. 9
Durley Road, she instinctively paused to take what she thought might
prove a last look at the world.

The contented serenity of the summer night enhanced the meanness of the
little street; but Mavis's imagination soared over the roofs, not only
of the road in which she stood, but of countless other roofs, till it
winged its way to Melkbridge. Instead of the depressing road, with its
infrequent down-at-heel passers-by, Mavis saw only the Avon as she had
known it a year ago. The river flowed lazily beneath the pollard
willows, as if complaisant enough to let these see their reflection in
the water. Forget-me-nots jewelled the banks; ragged robin looked
roguishly from, clumps of bushes; the scent of hay seemed to fill the
world. That was then.

Now--! Before she had set out for Durley Road, she had penned a little
note to Perigal. In this she had told him of the circumstances in which
she was writing it, and had said that if it proved to be the last
letter she should send him, that she would never cease to love and
trust him in any world to which it might please God to take her. This
was all she had written; but the moving simplicity of her words might
have touched even Perigal's heart. Besides writing to her lover, Mavis
had given Mrs Scatchard the address to which she was going, and had
besought her, in the event of anything untoward happening, either to
take Jill for her own or to find her a good home. Mrs Scatchard's
promise to keep and cherish Jill herself, should anything happen to her
mistress, cheered Mavis much.

Mavis took a last long look of the June night, sighed and entered the
gate of No. 9: her nerves were so disordered that it seemed as if it
shut behind her with a menacing clang. She knocked at the door, but,
upon no one coming, she knocked again and again. She knew there was
someone in the house, for the wailing of babies could be heard within.
For all anyone cared, her baby might have been born on the step. After
knocking and waiting for quite a long time, the door was opened by a
sad-faced girl, who, with the remains of a fresh complexion, looked as
if she were countryborn and bred.

"Mrs Gowler?" asked Mavis wearily.

Without making any reply, the young woman left the door open and
disappeared up the stairs. Mavis, followed by Jill, dragged herself
into the passage. The puling and smell of unwashed babies assailed her
ears and nos