ing the little spirit she had
brought from Mrs Gowler's nursing home. When she recalled the glowing
periods she had chanced upon in her reading, which eulogised the
supreme joys of motherhood, she supposed that they had been penned by
writers with a sufficient staff of servants and with means that made a
formidable laundry bill of no account. She wondered how working-class
women with big families managed, who, in addition to attending to the
wants of their children, had all the work of the house upon their
hands. Mavis's spare time was filled by the answering of advertisements
in the hope of getting sorely needed work; the sending of these to
their destination cost money for postage stamps, which made sad inroads
on her rapidly dwindling funds. But time and money were expended in
vain. The address from which she wrote was a poor recommendation to
possible employers. She could not make personal application, as she
dared not leave her baby for long at a stretch. Sometimes, her lover's
letters would not bring her the joy that they once occasioned; they
affected her adversely, leaving her moody and depressed. Conversely,
when she did not hear from Melkbridge for some days, she would be
cheerful and light-hearted, when she would spend glad half-hours in
reading the advertisements of houses to let and deciding which would
suit her when she was married to Perigal. Sometimes, when burdened with
care, she would catch sight of her reflection in the glass, to be not a
little surprised at the strange, latent beauty which had come into her
face. Maternity had invested her features with a surpassing dignity and
sweetness, which added to the large share of distinction with which she
had originally been endowed. At the same time, she noticed with a sigh
that sorrow had sadly chastened the joyous light-heartedness which
formerly found constant expression in her eyes.

Mavis had been at Mrs Gussle's about three weeks when she made the
acquaintance of one of the "theatrical" young women upstairs. They had
often met in the passage, when the girl had smiled sympathetically at
Mavis. One afternoon, when the latter was feeling unusually depressed,
a knock was heard at her door. She cried "Come in," when the girl
opened the door a few inches to say:

"May I?"

"I didn't know it was you," remarked Mavis, distressed at her poverty
being discovered.

"I came to ask if I could do anything for you," said the girl.

"That's very nice of you. D