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Updated: June 24, 2025
Mrs Devitt and Miss Spraggs were silent when they learned of Mavis's good fortune; they were torn between enhanced respect for Harold's wife and concern for Victoria, who had married a penniless man. Mavis could not gauge the effect of the news on Victoria, as she had gone back to London after Major Perigal's funeral, her husband remaining at Melkbridge for the reading of the will.
Although they looked as if they had got into the dignified atmosphere of Major Perigal's drawing-room by mistake, they were greatly delighted with their evening; afterwards, they did not fail to make copious references to those they had met at dinner to their Melkbridge friends. A month after the dinner, Major Perigal died suddenly in his chair.
"Where did you read that?" "And these conventions, that are the rudiments of what were once full-blooded necessities, are most practised by those who have the least call for their protection. Pity me." "I do." Perigal's eyes brightened. "I'm unhappy too," said Mavis, after a pause. "Not really?" "I wondered if you would help me." "Try me."
Once or twice, when owing to Perigal's not making an appearance, Mavis spent the evening alone, she would feel keenly disappointed, and would go home with a strong sense of the emptiness of life. During her day at the office, or when in her lodgings, she was either absent-minded or self-conscious; she was always longing to get away with only her thoughts for company.
The next afternoon, about two, when all Melkbridge was agog with excitement at the wedding of Major Perigal's son to Victoria Devitt, two funeral carriages might have been seen drawing up at a cottage in the Broughton Road.
But she did not eat; whether or not her two hours spent in Perigal's company were responsible for the result, it did not alter the fact that her mind was distracted by tumult. The divers perplexities and questionings that had troubled her with the oncoming of the year now assailed her with increased force.
"Love," replied Perigal. "Our love," corrected Mavis, as she gave him a glance rich with meaning. "Our love, then: the most beautiful thing in the world." "Which, unlike everything else, never dies," she declared. They drank. Mavis presently put down her knife and fork, to take Perigal's and feed him with tid-bits from her or his plate.
Just now, there was no room in her world for the more delicate susceptibilities of emotion. She wholly misjudged him, and the more she thought of it, the more she believed that his letter was dictated by pity rather than love. This pity irked her pride and made her disinclined to accept his offer. Then Mavis thought of Major Perigal's letter.
"I think you can get home safely now," he remarked, as he raised his straw hat. "Thanks for seeing me home." "Don't forget your fish. Good night." Mavis thought it well not to enter into any explanation of Perigal's presence to her landlady. She asked if supper were ready, to sit down to it directly she learned that it was.
But it wasn't good enough for you: you wouldn't take the risk. You've no no stuffing. That is why, if you and I were left alone in the world together for the rest of our lives, I should never do anything but despise you." Perigal's face went white. He bit his thin lips. Then he smiled as he said: "Retributive justice." "I'm sorry to be so candid. But it's what I've been thinking for months.
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