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Updated: May 24, 2025
"There's an admirable article about Carlyle in the same number of the National Review," said Miss Spraggs presently. "I never read anything about Carlyle," declared Mrs Devitt. Miss Spraggs raised her straight eyebrows. "He didn't get on with his wife," said Mrs Devitt, in a manner suggesting that this fact effectually disposed in advance of any arguments Miss Spraggs might offer.
"And now I find you like this." "I'll be going back now." "I'll turn with you if I may." "You'll be late." "I'll chance that," he laughed. "Months before I met you at Mrs Hamilton's, I heard about you from Devitt." "What did he say?" "It was just before you were going down to see him, from some school you were at, about taking a governess's billet. He told me of this, and I sent you a message."
"He loved me at once, and I took advantage of his love, thinking to be revenged on you for all I believed yes, I must tell you everything for all I believed you had done against me." Here Mrs Devitt lifted up her hands, as if filled with righteous anger at this statement. Mavis took no notice, but continued: "That is why I married him. That was then.
She opened the drawers at the base of her old-fashioned looking-glass and counted up her possessions. These amounted to seven pounds, thirteen shillings and sevenpence halfpenny; in addition to which, there was a quarter's salary of four pounds ten shillings due to her; also, there was her fare which Mrs. Devitt had sent, a sum which she was undecided whether or not to accept.
"Some shares for yourself?" "A rise of a pound a week for Miss Toombs." "That plain, unhealthy little woman at the boot factory!" "She's a heart of gold. I know you'll do it for me," said Mavis, who was now conscious of her power over Devitt. Having won her way, Mavis set out to intercept Miss Toombs, who about this time would be on her way to business.
Recollection of what she saw in the drawing-room is burned into Mavis's memory and will remain there till her last moment of consciousness. Montague Devitt, in evening dress, was lolling before the fireplace. His wife and her sister were busily engaged in unpacking showy articles from boxes, which Mavis divined to be wedding gifts. Victoria Devitt, sumptuously dressed, was seated on a low chair.
"One week saw him reduced from money to nixes." Mrs Devitt raised her eyebrows. "I mean nothin'," corrected Devitt. "How very distressing!" remarked Victoria in her exquisitely modulated voice. "We should try and do something for her." "We will," said her father. "We certainly owe a duty to those who were once our neighbours," assented Miss Spraggs.
"Oh, well-it's an 'Etty': some people might think it's scarcely the thing for some young people, you know," replied Devitt, as they descended the stairs. "Really! Is that why it's kept like that?" asked Mavis, who could scarcely conceal her amusement. Mrs Devitt, who was immediately behind, had detected the note of merriment in Mavis's voice.
"Do you remember her?" asked Mrs Devitt of her husband. "Of course I do, now I come to think of it," he replied. "What was she like?" He paused for a moment or two before replying. "She'd reddy sort of hair and queer eyes. She was a fine little girl, but a fearful tomboy," said Devitt. "Pretty, then!" exclaimed Mrs Devitt, as she glanced apprehensively at her step-daughter. "She was then.
The room seemed to move round Mavis. Mrs Devitt continued, as she noticed the look of dismay on the girl's face: "But I need hardly tell you that I will do all I can to do something for you." "Thank you," said Mavis. "Can't you get anything to do in London?" "I might." "Have you tried?" "A little."
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