Part 100 (2/2)
As Miss Toombs was leaving the room to wire to her landlady to tell her that she was staying with friends for the night, she kissed her hand to Mavis's baby.
”What are you going to call him?” she asked.
”Charlie, of course,” promptly replied Mavis.
The next moment, she could have bitten off her tongue for having given Miss Toombs a possible clue to her lover's ident.i.ty: she had resolved never to betray him to a living soul.
But Mavis comforted herself on the score that her friend received her information without betraying interest or surprise. Twenty minutes later, Miss Toombs came back, staggering beneath the weight of an acc.u.mulation of parcels, which contained a variety of things that Mavis might want.
”How could you spend your money on me?” asked Mavis, as the different purchases were unpacked.
”If one can't have a romance oneself, the next best thing is to be mixed up in someone else's,” replied Miss Toombs.
Mavis and her friend sat down to a supper of strawberries and cream, whilst they drank claret and soda water. Jill was not forgotten; Miss Toombs had bought her a pound of meat sc.r.a.ps from the butcher's, which the dog critically consumed in a corner.
”Let me hear about your romance and all the Melkbridge news,” said Mavis, as she stopped her friend from pouring more cream upon her plate of strawberries.
”Blow Melkbridge!” exclaimed Miss Toombs, her face hardening.
”But I love it. I'm always thinking about it, and I'd give anything to go back there.”
”Eh!”
”I said I'd give anything to be back there.”
”Rot!”
”Why rot?”
”You mustn't dream of going back,” cried Miss Toombs anxiously.
”Why on earth not?”
”Eh! Oh, because I say so.”
”Does anyone down there know?”
”Not that I'm aware of.”
”Then why shouldn't I go back?”
”There's no reason, only--”
”Only what?”
”Let me tell you of my romance.”
”Very well, only--”
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