as the use of being of
gentle birth?" she asked herself, if this were all it had done for her.
She deeply regretted that she had not been born an ordinary London
girl, in which case she would have been spared the possession of all
those finer susceptibilities with which she now believed herself to be
cursed, and which had prevented her from getting assistance from
Perigal. She lingered by the cook shop in Denbigh Street, where she
thought that she had never smelt anything so delicious as the greasy
savours which came from the eating-house. It was only with a great
effort of will that she stopped herself from spending her last one and
sixpence (which she was keeping for emergency) in food. When she
reached the Wilton Road, she walked of a set purpose on the station
side of that thoroughfare. She feared that the restaurants opposite
might prevail against her already weakened resolution. By the time she
reached the Victoria Underground Station, her hunger was no longer
under control. Her eyes searched the gutters greedily for anything that
was fit to eat. She glared wolfishly at a ragged boy who picked up an
over-ripe banana, which had been thrown on the pavement. The thought of
the little one at home decided her. She turned in the direction of the
post-office, having at last resolved to wire to her lover for help.

"Well, I'm blowed!" said a familiar voice at her side. Mavis turned, to
see the ill-dressed figure of flat-chested, dumpy Miss Toombs.

"Miss Toombs!" she faltered.

"Didn't you see me staring at you?"

"Of course not. What are you doing in London?"

"I'm up here on a holiday. I am glad to see you."

"So am I. Good night."

"Eh!"

"I must go home. I said good night."

"You are a pig. I thought you'd come and have something to eat."

"I'm not--I'm not hungry."

"Well, sit down by me while I feed. I feel I want a jolly good blow
out."

They had reached the doors of the restaurant opposite the main entrance
to the underground railway. The issuing odours smote Mavis's hesitation
hip and thigh.

"I--I really must be off," faltered Mavis, as she stood stockstill on
the pavement.

By way of reply, Miss Toombs shoved the unresisting Mavis through the
swing doors of the eating house; then, taking the lead, she piloted her
to a secluded corner on the first floor, which was not nearly so
crowded as the downstair rooms.

"It's nice to see good old Keeves again," remarked Miss Toombs, as she
thrust a li