“I’ve come here to start work tomorrow.  Can you tell me where I’m to go?” asked Mavis.

“I’m in a great hurry.  I’ve a Browning—­”

“If you’ll only tell me where to go,” interrupted Mavis.

“It’s this way,” cried the girl, as she led the way up the stairs.  “I’ve a Browning to return to—­”

“If you’ll only tell me where I’m to go—­”

“You’d never find it.  I’d have shown you round, but I’ve to return a Browning to a gentleman.”

“It’s very kind of you,” remarked Mavis, who was wondering how much further she had to climb.

“Do you love Browning?” asked the girl with the big eyes.

“I can’t say I do.”

“You—­don’t—­love—­Browning?” asked the other in astonishment.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“I couldn’t live without Browning.  Here’s your room:  you’ll probably find someone inside.  My name’s Miss Meakin.”

“Mine is Mavis Keeves.  Thanks so much.”

Mavis opened the door of a not over-large room, which was lit by a single gas burner.  Mavis looked at the four small beds, the four chests of drawers, the four washing stands, the four cane chairs, and the four framed bits of looking glass, which made up the furniture of the room.  Upon three of the beds were tumbled articles of feminine attire; others had slipped on the not over-clean floor.  Then Mavis noticed the back of a girl who was craning her neck out of the one window at the further end of the room.  The atmosphere of the apartment next compelled attention; it was a combination of gas (the burner leaked), stale body linen, cheap scents and soapsuds; it stuck in her throat and made her cough.

“Is that Pongo?” asked the girl, who was still staring out of the window.

“It’s me,” said Mavis.

“Eh!”

The girl brought her body into the room.  Mavis saw a girl who would have had a fine figure if she had been two or three inches taller.  She was swarthy, with red lips and fine eyes; she was dressed in showy but cheap evening finery.

“Common and vulgar-minded,” was Mavis’s mental comment as she looked at this person.

“Are you the new girl?” the stranger asked.

“Yes.”

“I took you for Bella, the slavey.  Sorry!  Pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you just come in from outside?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t see anything of a gentleman in a big motor car?”

“No.”

“I’m expecting my boy in one.  He promised to call for me in his motor car to-night and take me out to dinner and supper,” continued the girl.

“I’m rather hungry too,” remarked Mavis.

“Are you going out to dinner and supper?”

“Don’t they give supper here?”

“They do,” answered the girl, emphasising the last word, as if to disparage the meal supplied to their young ladies by “Dawes’.”

“It will have to be good enough for me,” said Mavis, who resented the patronising manner of the other.