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Updated: May 15, 2025
Bilkins's cook had, after the manner of her kind, stolen out of the premises before the family were up, and got herself married surreptitiously and artfully married, as if matrimony were an indictable offence. And something of an offence it was in this instance.
Bilkins's voice during the latter part of the colloquy had been pitched in a high key; it rung through the hall and penetrated to the kitchen, where Margaret was thoughtfully wiping the breakfast things. She paused with a half-dried saucer in her hand, and listened. In a moment more she stood, with bloodless face and limp figure, leaning against the banister, behind Mrs. Bilkins.
Mavis would have been hard put to it to repress a smile at this remark, had she not suddenly remembered how she had left her purse in the pocket of the frock that she had left behind her at Mrs Hamilton's; she realised that she would have to walk to Mrs Bilkins's. The fact of having no money to pay a 'bus fare reminded her how the cab was waiting outside.
Bilkins's voice during the latter part of the colloquy had been pitched in a high key; it rung through the hall and penetrated to the kitchen, where Margaret was thoughtfully wiping the breakfast things. She paused with a half-dried saucer in her hand, and listened. In a moment more she stood, with bloodless face and limp figure, leaning against the banister, behind Mrs. Bilkins.
Bilkins's view of it was not so cheerful The prospect of Mr. O'Rourke's ultimate return was anything but enchanting. Mr. Bilkins was by no means disposed to kill the fatted calf. He would much rather have killed the Prodigal Son. However, there was always this chance: he might never come back.
She thought her sudden good fortune justified a trifling extravagance; she had no fancy for Mrs Bilkins's smoked tea, so she turned into the first teashop she came to, where she revelled in scrambled eggs, strong tea, bread, butter, and jam. She ate these unaccustomed delicacies slowly, deliberately, hugely enjoying the savour of each mouthful. She then walked in the direction of Shepherd's Bush.
It may be said at once that this meal was a piece with the entire conduct of Mrs Bilkins's house, she being a unit in the vast army of incapable, stupid women who, sooner or later, drift into the letting of lodgings as a means of livelihood. After breakfast, Mavis wrote to "Dawes'," requesting that her boxes might be sent to her present address.
Bilkins's cook had, after the manner of her kind, stolen out of the premises before the family were up, and got herself married surreptitiously and artfully married, as if matrimony were an indictable offence. And something of an offence it was in this instance.
She took it, to recall the dreary day at Mrs Bilkins's on which she had penned the lines to Windebank, in which she had refused to hamper his career by acceding to his request. "Give it back," he demanded. "You don't want it?" "Don't I! A girl who can write a letter like that to a chap isn't easily forgotten, I can tell you." Mavis did not reply.
She surrendered herself body and soul to the exhilaration of the moment, as if conscious that it was all too good to be true; that her surroundings might any moment fade; that her gay clothes would disappear, and that she would again find herself, heartsick and weary, in her comfortless little combined room at Mrs Bilkins's.
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