“God bless you, little boy!” he murmured.  “God bless you and your beautiful mother!”

He then covered the baby’s face, and walked quickly away in the direction of Victoria.

That night, Mavis saw dawn touch the eastern sky with light before she slept.  She lay awake, wondering at and trying to resolve into coherence the many things which had gone to the shaping of her life.  What impressed her most was that so many events of moment had been brought about by trivial incidents to which she had attached no importance at the time of their happening.  Strive as she might, she could not hide from herself how much happier would have been her lot if she had loved and married Windebank.  It also seemed to her as if fate had done much to bring them together.  She recalled, in this connection, how she again met this friend of her early youth at Mrs Hamilton’s, of all places, where he had not only told her of the nature of the house into which she had been decoyed, but had set her free of the place.  Then had followed the revelation of her hitherto concealed identity, a confession which had called into being all his old-time, boyish infatuation for her.  To prevent possible developments of this passion for a portionless girl from interfering with his career, she had left him, to lose herself in the fog.  If her present situation were a misfortune, it had arisen from her abnormal, and, as it had turned out, mischievous consideration for his welfare.  But scruples of the nature which she had displayed were assuredly numbered amongst the virtues, and to arrive at the conclusion that evil had arisen from the practice of virtue was unthinkable.  Such a sorry sequence could not be; God would not permit it.

Mavis’s head ached.  Life to her seemed an inexplicable tangle, from which one fact stood out with insistent prominence.  This, that although Windebank’s thoughtless words about the safety of a woman with the man who truly loved her had awakened considerable apprehension in her heart, she realised how necessary it was to trust Perigal even more (if that were possible) than she had ever done before.  He was her life, her love, her all.  She trusted and believed in him implicitly.  She was sure that she would love him till the last moment of her life.  With this thought in her heart, with his name on her lips, the while she clutched Perigal’s ring, which Miss Toombs’s generosity had enabled her to get out of pawn, she fell asleep.

The first post brought two letters.  One was from Miss Toombs’s business acquaintance, offering her a berth at twenty-eight shillings a week; the other was from Montague Devitt, confirming the offer he had made Mavis at Paddington.  Devitt’s letter told her that she could resume work on the following Monday fortnight.  It did not take Mavis the fraction of a second to decide which of the two offers she would accept.  She sat down and wrote to Mr Devitt to thank him for his letter; she said