when she was rid of his company.  She then took train to Shepherd’s Bush, where she called on Miss Meakin as promised.  Much to her surprise, Miss Meakin, who was now robed in a flimsy and not too clean teagown, had not the slightest interest in knowing if Mavis had recovered her property; indeed, she had forgotten that Mavis had lost anything.  She was only concerned to know what Mavis thought of Mr Napper, and what this person had said about herself:  on this last matter, Mavis was repeatedly cross-questioned.  Mavis then spoke of a matter she had thought of on the way down:  that of engaging a room at Mrs Scatchard’s if she had one to let.  Miss Meakin, however, protested that she had nothing to do with the business arrangements of the house, and declared that her aunt had better be consulted.

Upon Mavis interviewing Mrs Scatchard on the matter, the latter declared that her niece had suggested the subject to her directly after Mavis had left in the morning, a statement which Miss Meakin did not appear to overhear.  Mrs Scatchard showed Mavis a clean, homely little room.  The walls were decorated with several photographs of celebrations, which, so far as she could see, were concerned with the doings of royalty.  When it came to the discussion of terms, Mrs Scatchard pointed out to Mavis the advantage of being in a house rented by a man like Mr Scatchard, who was “so mixed up with royalty,” as she phrased it; but, partly in consideration of the timely service which Mavis had once rendered Miss Meakin, and largely on the score that Mavis boasted of blood (she had done nothing of the kind), Mrs Scatchard offered her the room, together with use of the bathroom, for four-and-sixpence a week.  Upon Mavis learning that the landlady would not object to Jill’s presence, she closed with the offer.  At Mrs Scatchard’s invitation, she spent the evening in the sitting-room downstairs, where she was introduced to Mr Scatchard.  If, as had been alleged, Mr Scatchard was a pillar of the throne, that august institution was in a parlous condition.  He was a red-headed, red-eyed, clean-shaven man, in appearance not unlike an elderly cock; his blotchy face, thick utterance, and the smell of his breath, all told Mavis that he was addicted to drink.  Mavis wondered how this fuddled man, whose wife let lodgings in a shabby corner of Shepherd’s Bush, could be remotely associated with Government, till it leaked out that he had been for many years, and still was, one of the King’s State trumpeters.

Mavis was grateful to the Scatchards for their humble hospitality, if only because it prevented her mind from dwelling on her extremity.  She was so tired with all she had gone through, that, directly she got to bed, she fell asleep, to awake about five with a mind possessed by fears for the future.  Try as she could, faith in her lover refused to supply the relief necessary to allow her further sleep.