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Updated: May 27, 2025
"And you yourself, have you written to anyone here?" "There's no one I could write to. There's not one of my father's old friends I've kept up. They've all forgotten my very existence, years ago." "Sure?" "Who am I to remember?" asked Mavis simply. It was on Mrs Devitt's lips to give the girl Sir Archibald's message, but the thought of her unmarried step daughter restrained her.
It was a crestfallen, tired, and heartsick Mavis who opened the door of Brandenburg College with her latch-key in the evening. The only thing that sustained her was the memory of the white look of anger which appeared in Lowther Devitt's face when she had unmistakably resented his insult.
Devitt's voice recalled her to her surroundings; she looked up, to catch his eyes looking kindly into hers. Although she made an effort to join in the talk, she was mentally bowing her head, the while her being ached with anguish. She did not recover her spirits for the rest of the evening. There came a day when one of the big guns of the financial world was expected to dinner.
Miss Toombs explained how the manager of a London house, which had extensive dealings with Devitt's boot factory, was indebted to her for certain crooked business ways that she had made straight. She told Mavis that she had gone to see this man on Mr Devitt's behalf since she had been in town, and that he was anxious to keep in her good books.
The good woman was ignorant that the starvation wages which her husband's companies paid were directly responsible for the existence of the local evil she deplored, and which she did her best to eradicate. Miss Spraggs, Hilda Devitt's elder sister, lived with the family at Melkbridge House.
Debts were forgivable, perhaps excusable, in a young gentleman of Lowther's standing, but immorality, in Mrs Devitt's eyes, was a horse of quite another colour; anything of this nature acted upon Mrs Devitt's susceptibilities much in the same way as seeing red afreets an angry bull.
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