Miss Toombs looked stupidly at her benefactor.

“Now I know you want to thank me.  Good night,” said Mavis, as she put out her hand.

Miss Toombs took it, gripped it, and then turned round with her face to the wall.  The next morning, Mavis received a letter from her in pencil.  In this, she told Mavis that the desire of her life had been for independence; but that she had held out against taking the money because she had latterly become jealous of Mavis, owing to Windebank’s lifelong infatuation for her.

In addition to these benefactions, Mavis insisted on repaying Windebank for all the expense he had been put to for her illness, her child’s funeral, and for her long stay at Swanage.

Thus, Mavis’s first concern was to benefit those who had shown her kindness; whether or not she added to the sum of their individual happiness is another matter.  Mr Poulter, doubtless, thought that dear Mrs Harold Devitt, while she was about it, might just as well have gilded “Turpsichor’s” head and face.  Mrs Scatchard, and particularly Miss Meakin, were probably resentful that Mavis did not ask them to mix with her swell friends; whilst Miss Toombs had plenty of time on her hands in which to indulge in vain regrets because she was not as attractive and finely formed as Mavis.

Beyond these gifts, it was a long time before Mavis could get into the habit of spending her substance freely, and without thought of whether she could really afford to part with money; the reason being that, for so many years in her life, she had had to consider so carefully every penny she spent, that she found it difficult to break away from these habits of economy.  Late in the year, she moved up from her Melkbridge place (which she had long since gone into) to the house in town which Major Perigal had been in the habit of letting, or, if a tenant were not forthcoming, shutting up.

When she got there with Harold and Jill, she welcomed the distractions that London life offered, and in which her husband joined so far as his physical disability would permit.  Windebank, to whom Harold took a great liking, and Lady Ludlow introduced Mavis to their many acquaintances.  In a very short time, Mavis had more dear, devoted friends than she knew what to do with.  The women, who praised her and her devotion “to a perfect dear of a husband” to her face, would, after enjoying her hospitality, go away to discuss openly how soon she would elope with Windebank, or any other man they fancied was paying her attention.

Mavis was not a little surprised by the almost uniform behaviour of the men who frequented her house.  Old or young, rich or impecunious, directly they perceived how comely Mavis was, and that her husband was an invalid, did not hesitate to consider her fair game to be bagged as soon as may be.  Looks, manners, veiled words, betrayed their thoughts; but, somehow, even the hardiest veteran amongst them did not get