rl in 'er cot (the gentlemen like baby
girls better'n boys), as prayed for 'er mummy before she went to sleep.
Then, squeeze a tear an' see if that don't touch their 'earts an' their
pockets."

"Let me go! Let me go!" cried Mavis, horrified at the woman's
communication.

"I thought I'd astonish you," said Miss Ewer complacently.

"Let me go. This way?"

"Too grateful to thenk me! Never mind; leave it till nex' time we meet.
You can thenk me then. I thought I'd take your breath away."

"Let me out! Let me out!" cried Mavis, as she fumbled at the chain of
the front door.

"Lemme. Good night, and Gawd bless yer," said Miss Ewer, furtively
counting the gold pieces in her pocket.

Mavis did not reply.

"Thought I'd astonish yer. Fer Gawd's sake, don't whisper what I told
you to a livin' soul. An' work 'ard and keep virtuous like me. Before
Gawd, I'm as good a maid--"

These were the last words Mavis heard as she hurried away from Miss
Ewer.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SURRENDER

Four weeks later, Mavis got out of the train at Melkbridge. She
breathed a sigh of relief when her feet touched the platform; her one
regret was that she was not leaving London further away than the
hundred miles which separated Melkbridge from the metropolis. It seemed
to her as if the great city were exclusively peopled with Mr. Orgles',
Mrs Hamiltons, Miss Ewers, and their like. Ignorant of London's
kindness, she had only thought for its wickedness. With the exception
of one incident, she had resolved to forget as much as possible of her
existence since she had left Brandenburg College; also, to see what
happiness she could wrest from life in the capacity of clerk in the
Melkbridge boot manufactory, a position she owed to her long delayed
appeal to Mr Devitt for employment. The one incident that she cared to
dwell upon was her meeting with Windebank and the kindly concern he had
exhibited in her welfare. The morning following upon her encounter with
him, she had long debated, without arriving at any conclusion, whether
she had done well, or otherwise, in leaving him as she had done. As the
days passed, if things seemed inclined to go happily with her, she was
glad that she had put an end to their budding friendship, to regret her
behaviour when vexed by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Her few hours' acquaintance with Windebank had ruffled the surface of
the deep, unexplored waters of the girl's passion, which, rig