“Don’t you ever be a fool an’ teach dancing.”

“Why ’a fool’?” asked Mavis.

“Look at me an’ the way I ’obble; it’s all the fault of teaching the ‘gentlemen.’”

“Indeed!”

“The ‘gentlemen’ is such clumsy fellers; they always tread on my right foot.  I tried wearing flannel, but they come down on it jess the same, ’arder if anything.”

Soon after nine, Miss Meakin came in, having travelled from “Dawes’” with all dispatch by the “Tube.”  She warmly greeted Mavis, congratulated her on getting employment at “Poulter’s,” and told her that, after she (Mavis) had left “Dawes’,” the partners had made every inquiry into her habit of life.  Miss Meakin had been summoned to one of the partner’s rooms to say what she knew of the subject, and had sat near a table on which was lying Mavis’s letter; she had made a note of the address, to write to her directly she was able to do so.

“We must have a long talk, dear; but not to-night.”

“Why not to-night?” “Mr Napper, my ‘boy,’ will be waiting for me outside.”

“Bring him in and introduce me.”

“He’d never forgive me if I did.  He’s all brains, dear, and would never overlook it, if I insisted on his entering a dancing academy.”

“What is he?”

“He’s a lawyer.  But his cleverness is altogether outside of that.”

“A barrister?”

“Scarcely.”

“A solicitor?”

“Not yet.  He works for one.”

After the pupils had gone, Mavis, pressed by Mr Poulter, stayed to a supper that consisted of bread, cheese, and cocoa.

When this was over, Mr Poulter said: 

“I don’t know of what religious persuasion you may be, but would you be offended if I asked you to stay for family prayers?”

“I like you for asking me,” declared Mavis.

“I am overjoyed at a real young lady like you caring to stay,” replied Poulter.

Mr Poulter read a chapter from the Bible.  He then offered up a brief extempore prayer.  He prayed for Miss Nippett, for Mavis, for past and present pupils, the world at large.  The Lord’s Prayer, in which the two women joined, ended the devotions.

When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door.

“I live in the ‘Bush’:  where do you?” asked Miss Nippett of Mavis.

“Kiva Road, Hammersmith.”

“Then we go different ways.  Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss Keeves.”

Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night.  The two women walked together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left.

As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was still standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at “Turpsichor.”  A few minutes later, when she encountered the insolent glances of the painted foreign women who flock in the Goldhawk Road, Mavis found it hard to believe that they and Mr Poulter inhabited the same world.