he had enough money to snatch a
brief half-hour's respite from her troubles. She looked in her purse,
to find it contained three shillings. The next moment, she was moving
in the direction of the tea-room, her habitual husbandry making a poor
fight against the over-mastering desire possessing her.

She walked up a steep, narrow flight of carpeted stairs; this
terminated in a long, low room, the walls of which were of black oak,
and which was nearly filled with a gaily dressed crowd of men and
women. The sensuous music of a string band fell on her ear; the smell
of tea and the indefinable odour of women were borne to her nostrils. A
card was put in her hand, telling her that a palmist could be consulted
on the next floor. In and out among the tables, attendants, clad in the
garb of sixteenth century Flemish peasant women, moved noiselessly.

Mavis got a table to herself in a corner by a window which overlooked
the street. She ordered tea and toast. When it was brought, she did her
best to put her extremity out of sight; she tried hard to believe that
she, too, led a happy, butterfly existence, without anxious thought for
the morrow, without a care in the world. The effort was scarcely a
success, but was, perhaps, worth the making. As she sat, she noticed a
kindly-looking old gentlewoman who was pointing her out to a companion;
for all the old woman's somewhat dowdy garb, she had rich woman stamped
all over her. The old lady kept on looking at Mavis; once or twice,
when the latter caught her eye, the elder woman smiled. When she rose
to go, she came over to Mavis and said:

"Forgive me, my dear, but your hair looks wonderful against that
imitation oak."

"Does it? But it isn't imitation too," replied Mavis.

"Forgive me, won't you?"

"Of course."

"May I ask your name?"

"Keeves. Mavis Keeves."

"A good name," muttered the old lady. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

Mavis saw her move towards the door; when she reached it, she turned to
smile again to Mavis before going out.

"What a fool I am!" thought Mavis. "If I'd only told her I wanted work,
she'd have helped me to something. What a fool I am!"

Mavis rose as if to follow the kindly old soul; but she was too late.
As she got up, she saw her step into a fine carriage, which, after the
footman had closed the door and mounted the box, had driven away. Mavis
sat helplessly. It seemed as if she were as a drowning person who had
been offered the chance of clutchin