Mavis made an elaborate toilette.  She bathed, presently to clothe herself in the many delicate garments which Mrs Hamilton had provided.  Her hair was dressed by Parkins; later, when she put on the evening frock, she hardly knew herself.  The gown was of grey chiffon, embroidered upon the bodice and skirt with silver roses; grey silk stockings, grey silver embroidered shoes completed the toilette.

“Madam sent you these,” said Parkins, returning to the room after a short absence.

“Those!” cried Mavis, as her eyes were attracted by the pearl necklaces and other costly jewels which the maid had brought.

“Madam entertains very rich gentlemen; she likes everyone about her to look their best.”

Mavis, with faint reluctance, let Parkins do as she would with her.  The pearl necklaces were roped about her neck; gold bracelets were put upon her arms; a thin platinum circlet, which supported a large emerald, was clasped about her head.

Mavis stood to look at herself in the glass.  She could scarcely believe that the tall, queenly, ardent-looking girl was the same tired, dispirited creature who had listlessly pinned on her hat of a morning before tramping out, in all weathers, to search for work.  She gazed at herself for quite two minutes; whatever happened, the memory of how she looked in all this rich finery was something to remember.

“Will I do?” she asked of Mrs Hamilton, when that person, very richly garbed, came into the room.

Mrs Hamilton looked her all over before replying: 

“Yes, you’ll do.”

“I’m glad.”

“I never make a mistake.  You can go, Parkins.”

When the maid had left the room, Mrs Hamilton said: 

“I’m going to introduce you to my friends as Miss Devereux.”

“But—­”

“I wish it.”

“But—­”

Mavis did not at all like this resolve.

“It was the name of my last companion, and I’ve got used to it.  Besides, I wish it.”

Mavis resented Mrs Hamilton’s sudden assumption of authority; it quickened the vague feelings of dislike which she had felt in her presence, the vague feelings of dislike which reminded her of—­of—­ ah!  She remembered now.  It was the same uncomfortable sensation which she had always experienced when Mrs Stanley stood by her in “Dawes’.”

This discovery of the identity of the two emotions set Mavis wondering if either had anything to do with the character of the two women who had inspired them, and, if so, whether Mrs Hamilton followed the same loathsome calling as Mrs Stanley.  Mavis comforted her mind’s disquiet by reflecting how Miss Allen had, most likely, not told the truth about Mrs Stanley’s occupation; also, by remembering how her present situation was the result of a direct, personal appeal to the Almighty, which precluded the remotest possibility of her being exposed to risk of insult or harm.  She had little time for thinking on the matter, for Mrs Hamilton said: