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Updated: June 29, 2025
"I can't say I do." "You don't love Browning?" asked the other in astonishment. "I'm sorry, but I don't." "I couldn't live without Browning. Here's your room: you'll probably find someone inside. My name's Miss Meakin." "Mine is Mavis Keeves. Thanks so much." Mavis opened the door of a not over-large room, which was lit by a single gas burner.
Devitt was about to start, when the other said: "By the way, when you do see Miss Keeves, you might tell her that the mater and my sister will be down here next week and that they'll be awfully pleased to see her, if she'd care to come and stay." "I won't forget," replied Devitt dryly. "Tell her to come for as long as she cares to, as the mater and Celia were always fond of her.
Keep looking like that," cried Windebank suddenly. "Why?" she asked, quickly turning to him. "Now you've spoiled it," he complained. "Spoiled what?" "Your expression. Good heavens!" The exclamation was a signal for retrospection on Windebank's part. When he next spoke, he said: "Is your name, by any wonderful chance, Mavis Keeves?" "What?" "Answer my question.
She itched to pluck him by the beard, to tell him what she thought of him. "Miss Keeves!" said Mr Orgles presently. "Yes, sir." "Don't say 'sir." Mavis started in surprise. Mr Orgles put down his pen. "We're going to have a friendly little chat," said the man. "Let me offer you some tea." "No, thank you." "Pooh! pooh! Nonsense!"
At the last at which she called, she was asked to write her name in the hotel book. She commenced to write Mavis Keeves, but remembered that she had decided to call herself Mrs Kenrick while in London. She crossed out what she had written, to substitute the name she had elected to bear.
Mavis hoped that he would not see her; but the fates willed otherwise. One of the porters dropped a package, which fell with a resounding thwack at Mavis's feet. Devitt turned, to see Mavis. "Miss Keeves!" he said, raising his hat. Mavis bowed. "May I speak to you a moment?" he asked, after glancing at Miss Toombs, and furtively lifting his hat to this person. Mavis joined him.
"You're leaving the college, aren't you, Miss Keeves?" asked Bella. "Yes, dear," replied Mavis. "Going to be married?" asked Mr. Goss, who secretly admired Mavis. "I'm going to earn my living; at least, I hope so," said Mavis. "Haven't you anything to do, then?" he asked. "Nothing settled," Mavis answered evasively. "I suppose you wouldn't care for anything in the theatrical line?"
"Charlie Perigal. We were laughing about it only the week before last." "He loved her too?" "Rather. I remember we both subscribed to buy her a birthday present. Anyway, the week before last, we both asked each other what had become of her, and promised to let each other know if we heard anything of her." "If I were Mavis Keeves, would you let him know?" "No fear." Mavis smiled at the reply.
Women have mutually agreed to make marriage the price of their surrender to men. Girls who don't insist on this price choke men off marrying, and that's why they're never forgiven by other women." "Is it you talking?" "No, my dear Keeves; women, in this world, who look for marriage, have to play up to men and persuade them they're worth the price of a man losing his liberty."
"What are you going to do for Miss Keeves?" asked Harold. "It's so difficult to decide off-hand," his step-mother replied. "Can't you think of anything, father?" persisted Harold. "It's scarcely in my line," answered Montague, glancing at his wife as he spoke. Harold looked inquiringly at Mrs Devitt. "It's so difficult to promise her anything till one has seen her," she remarked.
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