Without making any reply, the young woman left the door open and disappeared up the stairs.  Mavis, followed by Jill, dragged herself into the passage.  The puling and smell of unwashed babies assailed her ears and nostrils to such an extent, that, to escape from these, she walked into the kitchen and closed the door.  This room was empty, but, as on her last visit, a fire roared in the kitchener, before which innumerable rows of little garments were airing.  Overpowered by the stifling heat, Mavis sank on a chair, where a horde of flies buzzed about her head and tried to settle on her face.  She was about to seek the passage in preference to the stuffy kitchen, when she heard a loud single knock at the front door.  Believing this to be the porter with her luggage, she went to the door, to find that her surmise was correct.

“Which room shall I take it to, miss?”

“It will do if you put it in the hall,” replied Mavis.

When she had paid the man and shut the door, she sat upon her box in the passage.  Jill nestled beside her, whilst Mavis rested with her fingers pressed well against her ears, to deaden the continual crying of babies which came from various rooms in the house.

As Mavis thus waited, disconsolate and alone, her heart sank within her.  Her present case seemed to foreshadow the treatment she would receive at Mrs Gowler’s hands during her confinement, which might now occur at any moment.  As she waited, she lost all count of time; her whole being was concerned with an alteration in her habits of thought, which had been imminent during the last few months, but which needed a powerful stimulus to be completely effected.  This was now supplied.  Hitherto, when it became a question whether she should consider others before herself, she had, owing to an instinct in her blood, chosen the way of self-abnegation.  She often suspected that others took advantage of this unselfishness, but found it hard to do otherwise than she had always done.  Whether it was owing to all she had lately endured, or because her maternal instinct urged her to think only of her as yet unborn little one, she became aware of a hardening of heart which convinced her of the expediency of fighting for her own hand in the future.  Mrs Gowler’s absence was the immediate cause of this manifestation.  Had she not loved Perigal so devotedly and trusted him so completely, she would have left the miserable house in Durley Road and gone to an expensive nursing home, to insist later upon his meeting the bill.  For all her awakened instinct of self, the fact of her still deciding to remain at Mrs Gowler’s was a yet further sacrifice on the altar of the loved one.  Perhaps this further self-effacement where her lover was concerned urgently moved her to stand no trifling in respect of others.  Consequently, when about half-past ten Mrs Gowler opened the door, accompanied by her idiot son, Oscar, who looked more imbecile than ever in elaborate clothes, she was not a little surprised to be greeted by Mavis with the words: